


Asylum

by NerdyAdjacent



Series: American Horror Story [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment, ambrollins - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asylum, Blow Jobs, Experimentation, Ghosts, Horror, Loosely based on Asylum from American Horror Story, M/M, M/M Sex, Mental Health Issues, Paranormal, Time Travel, Time slip, ambrollins - Freeform, asylum AU, m/m - Freeform, poor mental health practices, stairway sex, tags to be added as story progresses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8069935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyAdjacent/pseuds/NerdyAdjacent
Summary: Seth watched as long as his stomach could stand before hauling off back the way he had come, overwhelmed with fear and revulsion at what he had just witnessed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [demonjeans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonjeans/gifts).



> This is the first in a series being worked on and discussed between myself and demonjeans based on the titles from American Horror Story. Keep an eye out for hers. 
> 
> Also, because of the nature of this story, there will be sensitive themes throughout, specifically with regards to the treatment of the mentally ill. I want to remind everyone that the ONLY reason it is being used like it is in this story is because of the time period. It is based in an era when our understanding of what mental illness is and how is should be treated was limited. 
> 
> I mean no offense to anyone, but I am just putting all this out there as a warning.

“This is stupid. Why are we doing this?”

And Seth didn't know why. And it was incredibly stupid. Why on gods earth was he letting Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns talk him into this? He was an adult for Christ's sake, this is the type of shit teenagers do when their bored, not full grown men. Yet, here he stood, cell phone flashlights the only thing guiding them through the grimey doors of this stupid asylum. 

They condemned the place for a reason; old and run down and he was sure only held upright by the cobwebs that seemed to hang from every corner. Every surface was covered in dirt, grime, and some liquid substance he'd rather not think about. Graffiti littered every available, paint chipped wall in all sorts of designs and phrases surely meant to freak people out. One in particular was painted on the door as Dean pushed it open and he remembered thinking that the poetic nature of it was actually sort of beautiful in a deeply disturbing sort of way.

_Abandon all hope all ye who enter here._

“Dante.” Roman had said, grinning sadly back at him. “Fitting.”

Dean just sort of shook his head and continued into the dark recesses of the building. He remembered thinking that his bravery was nothing but ignorance and the need for a cheap thrill. Which, where Dean was concerned, was exactly what it was. “Are you two gonna just hang out on the front porch all night, or are we doing this?”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Roman followed him in, much to the chagrin of Seth. Stubbornly standing there as they walked into the darkness, he seriously considered just heading back to the car to wait for them to get over this string of madness they apparently found themselves hanging from. 

“Fuck, wait up!” He called after them, deciding he'd rather not stand there alone. He caught up with them easily, and Dean threw an arm around his shoulder and kissed his temple with a _smack_.

“I knew you wouldn't chicken out on me, babe.”

Though that small touch was enough for a little reassurance, he hated the fact that his so called boyfriend was so nonchalant about all of this. So, he shrugged the arm off and hope Dean could see the frown on his face in the dark. Based on the chuckle and subsequent hands on either side of his head, he could. “This isn't funny, Dean.”

“Lighten up, Seth.” He said, kissing his forehead. “It's just a building.”

“A haunted building.” Roman chimed in from somewhere ahead of them. 

Seth glared in his general direction and Dean turned his face to look at him again. “Ignore him.” He whispered. “You know I love you. Do you think I'd let anything bad happen? Plus, how cool would it be to have sex here, huh?” 

His frown deepened and he pushed Dean away, but it wasn't as forceful as he'd like it to have been and he couldn't help but smile at the suggestive grin on his face. He wouldn't admit it, but adding abandoned asylum to his list of places he'd been fucked sounded pretty damn amazing. 

They both laughed when Roman muttered a quick, annoyed “Get a room.” 

Dean held out his hand and, though still miffed at him, Seth took it and let himself be led. They ventured further into the dilapidated, claustrophobic confines of the building, carefully sidestepping all the overturned medical tables, equipment, beds, and chairs. They had no particular destination in mind, but Seth had a feeling he knew where they were headed. 

“That guy said there were tunnels under the building, right?”

Seth looked at Dean who was too busy shining his light at what could have been an old dentist's lamp. He was about to suggest for the hundredth time that they should just leave, but a loud clanging noise made them both nearly jump straight out of their skin.

“What the fuck was that?” Seth breathed, fingers shaking more than he would admit.

Roman's head peeked around the doorframe. “Sorry, I knocked over a cart of bedpans.”

Another loud bang, this time further down the corridor. Dean glared at his best friend. “The joke only works when we aren't expecting it, Ro.”

But Roman wasn't smiling, in fact it the was opposite. “That wasn't me.”

“Quit fooling around, man.”

“I swear, that was not me.” Roman said, eyes wide and dancing back and forth between Seth and Dean. “We should go.”

“I've been saying that for an hour now!” Seth said to Dean with a little annoyed shove to his shoulder. 

Dean shrugged both of them off like it was nothing. “C’mon, it's probably just an animal or something.” 

“You know, that's how every horror movie _ever_ starts.” Said Roman and again Dean shrugged him off to head toward the noise.

“You two can stay there for all I care, but I'm checking it out.” He said. “I'm seeing a goddamn ghost tonight if it kills me.”

“I'm staying here!” Seth proclaimed loudly after him. “This is stupid, Dean!”

“It's just a building!” His voice echoed from a distance away. 

Dean had said that a lot tonight. For someone who claimed to believe is such weird things, he was the biggest skeptic that Seth ever knew. It was like he dared anyone or anything to prove him wrong. One day, he would be. 

“Someone should go with him.” Roman said to Seth. “This place is probably a maze.”

But now Seth was annoyed, freaked out, and pissed off. “Do what you want, I don't care. Ass wants to go traipsing around in this hell hole, that's on him.” Then he turned abruptly on his heels and started heading back the way they came. “I'm going to the goddamn car. Tell him he's got a half hour then I'm leaving with or without you two.”

He didn't even bother waiting for Roman to say anything because, frankly, he didn't care. He'd go running after his buddy, they'd have a good laugh - probably at Seth's expense - and then it would be like Dean never dragged the two of them to this dump. He blamed that dude at the bar for telling Dean this stupid story about missing patients, underground tunnels, and ghosts. If it weren't for him, they'd be on their way out of this stupid town. 

_You're going the wrong way…_

Seth stopped dead in his tracks, frozen. What was that? Spinning around frantically to see if there was someone sneaking up on him...like Dean...he shined his phone flashlight into every dark corner he could. Nothing. Maybe it was his imagination. These places could definitely play tricks with perception. He pushed it aside for now but did pick up his speed toward the exit. 

_Turn around. The bad man will get you._

He'd heard that, he definitely heard a voice. “Who's there!?” 

Silence.

“Dean if this is you playing a fucking prank on me I'm going to kill you myself!”

Nothing save for the slow _drip, drip, drip_ of something hitting the floor. Now he was completely freaked out and decided running was probably his best option. He sprinted down the empty hallway as fast as he could, desperate to get out of this place. 

One second he was running, the next he was face to face with a woman. She could have been about his age but he couldn't be sure because the thing that was now burned into his brain was the fact that she had no face! He'd be man enough to admit he screamed, loudly, and not giving a shit who heard him. 

Then it was as if the floor opened up below him and then everything went black…

…

…

…

“Mr. Rollins?”

His eyes flew open and he blinked a few times at how bright it was suddenly. 

“Mr. Rollins, are you alright?”

He looked up to see a man sitting behind a desk looking at him like he had ten heads. He was older, grey hair slicked back off his tan face, horn rimmed glasses sitting low on his nose as he observed him like someone might look at a bug. 

“Seth? Honey?”

He turned to his left. A woman sat there looking at him much like the man was. She was probably in her fifties, and dressed in a blue skirt with a white blouse that seemed more like something he'd seen in this old war movies Dean like to watch so much. It seemed old fashioned, dated. Even her hair seemed wrong, pulled harshly off her face to fall at her neck in a wave. 

“Mr. Rollins, your mother and I agree that this is the best place for you.” The man behind the desk said, drawing Seth's attention.

“M-my mother?” Seth watched The man's eyes flick to the woman as if he knew something he didn't. Then it seemed to click. “She's not my mother.”

“See, Dr. McMahon, it's been like this since he got back from the war.” The woman said, crying into a handkerchief. 

“War?” Seth questioned. “I've never been in a war.”

“I see what you mean.” The man - Doctor? - said with a thoughtful nod of his head. “Have these delusions been continuous or does he have moments of lucidity?”

“What are you talking about!?” Seth damn near screamed and shot to his feet. That's when he got a good look at himself reflected in the mirror behind the doctor's desk. It was him, but it wasn't. His hair was now cut short, swept off his face and to the side; his beard had been shaved; he was dressed in a green military uniform out of some World War II movie. “What the fuck?!”

The doctor was on his feet now, finger in Seths face, “We don't appreciate that sort of GI language here in this hospital, young man! Now, sit down!”

No way was he cooperating in whatever sick joke was being played on him. He had to call Dean, but every pocket he patted was empty. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?” The woman who was supposed to be his mother asked with a sniff into her handkerchief. 

“My cell phone. Where is my cell phone?”

“You will have phone privileges here if you cooperate.”

“I want my phone back!”

“Seth, there is one phone for the entire hospital. It can hardly be called yours.”

“Hospital?” He looked down at the desk and saw the piece of paper lying there and snatched it to read it. Admission form for the Iowa Asylum for the Mentally Ill, dated June 4, 1946...signed by Seth Rollins. “What the hell...I'm not insane.”

“The problem with mental illness is that many don't believe they are ill in the first place.” Said the doctor, snatching the form out of Seth's hands. 

“But it's not even 1946.” Said Seth. “It's 2016.”

At that, the doctor openly laughed. “2016?! Son, if it was 2016 I'd be living on Mars with my flying car and my robot butler eating dehydrated food.”

“That's not...where's Dean?”

“Mr. Rollins, I'm a busy man and seeing as you've already signed the admission forms, we'd like to get you situated here.” Said the doctor, exasperated and pinching the bridge of his nose just under his glasses. “Now, I'd like to speak to your mother in private while the orderlies get you to your room.”

“She is not my mother!” Seth spat. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned, lashing out in self defense. He didn't mean to punch the poor man in the nose, but as it were he now was clutching his bleeding face. Two more grabbed at him while he was stunned and started dragging him from the office.

“Wait! No! I'm not crazy!”


	2. Chapter 2

The next few hours were a blur and he remembered thinking more than once that he should not have been treated this way, he was a human being for fucks sake. Immediately after the office he was led to a small room with a drain in the floor. It could have been a shower stall, but there was no shower head and the three orderlies who had taken him here refused to leave. Hell, for all he knew it was simply easy cleanup for when they slit his throat. 

The largest of the three - name tag reading Kane - told him to strip and he immediately panicked, shocked. At his hesitation, there was obvious annoyance, so this must happen more often than not. “Strip, or we'll do it for you.” He'd said in a gruff command that not only managed to be terrifying, but also loud enough to echo off the walls of the stall. When Seth still didn't comply fast enough, the large man stalked up to him and got right in his face. “Do I have to ask again?”

Swallowing his fear while managing to set his jaw, almost prepared to refuse, the look in their eyes meant that they had definitely dealt with worse than him and would have no problem putting him in his place. So, he did as instructed, peeling off the layers of the military uniform that he'd found himself in until he was left in a pair of pale blue boxer shorts. 

“Those to.” Said the man.

Seth looked down at himself and shook his head. “No way. I'm keeping some of my dignity.”

All three men laughed at him. “You forfeited that when you signed your name on the admission papers.” Kane chuckled. “I ain't losing my job because you decided to smuggle something in here, now _take them off_.”

Again, unsure what might happen if he refused and preferring to do this on his own terms rather than let them do it for him as they claimed, he pushed the boxers off and kicked them aside with the rest of his clothes. He stood there naked, covering his junk with his hands, and trying to ignore the chuckles and snickers from the orderlies. 

“Turn around, hands against the wall.” Kane instructed, sounding almost bored now. 

What else could he do? He turned around and put his hands against the wall, thankful they couldn't see his flush of embarrassment anymore. He felt Kane get close to him and closed his eyes, unsure what was coming next but positive he wasn't going to like it. A finger ran down the top of his spine and his eyes flew open. 

“What is this tattoo?” Kane asked, a hard edge to the tone of his voice, far harsher than before. He'd forgotten about his tattoo. If everyone here was under the delusion that this was 1946, than having an innocent tattoo meant to inspire respect and loyalty like his would definitely be frowned upon. 

“It's nothing.” He tried, hoping it would be enough. 

“You get it overseas?” 

How did he answer that question? No, he didn't get it overseas because he didn't fight in this war because he wasn't born until 1986. He got it at a tattoo shop in his hometown when he was younger because he'd seen it in a Tom Cruise movie and really identified with the message. It was the way of the warrior, the bushido, but that would mean absolutely nothing to them. So he nodded, hoping they would just do whatever they were going to and leave him alone to figure out how to get the hell out of here. 

It seemed to work because Kane stepped away. Next thing he knew he was being blasted with ice cold water so strong it was probably taking skin off his back and legs. They sprayed his entire body and he gritted his teeth against the pain like needle pricks all over him. When they were done with that, they hit him with a chalky white powder that stuck to his wet skin like a paste and coated the inside of his throat. One of the other orderlies shoved a set of scrubs into his arms and they all watched as he dressed. It was belittling, demeaning, and he would never forget the experience...ever. 

They took him by the arm and led him out into the asylum. Compared to the doctor's office and walk to the shower from hell, this was downright medieval. There was absolutely nothing but white walls and people meandering around aimlessly. Some were crying, some were laughing, some were talking to themselves, some were smoking, and some were just sitting there rocking. 

“This is the common area.” Kane said to Seth. “You're allowed to be in here when you're not working or in your room for the night. You will be accompanied to the toilets, so you must ask permission. Dinner and pills are at 7:30, so let's get you to your room.”

Seth was only half listening. He'd spotted a man in the corner that changed the game. He'd know that mop of ragged auburn hair anywhere. Dean! Had he gotten stuck here too? He managed to shake off the orderlies and made a beeline for him and threw his arms around Dean. “Dean! Thank god!”

There was no response, he just sat there. When Seth pulled back to look at his face Dean wasn't even looking at him, he was staring off into the distance with glassy, unfocused eyes. 

“Dean?” 

Still nothing. He looked damn near catatonic if he wasn't sitting upright, just sort of swaying back and forth. The orderlies were close, but Seth had to get Dean to see him before they grabbed him, so he took Dean by the face and turned his head until fuzzy blue eyes met his. “What happened to you?”

The first arm grabbed him around the waist and lifted him to his feet. A second grabbed him by his struggling legs. He kicked out and managed to catch one in the gut, “No! Get off!”

“Nurse! We need a sedative!” Kane yelled over the chaos that had seemed to erupt around them. Patients were freaking out, screaming, crying, and laughing as Seth fought back. But not Dean, he just sat there, blinking mindlessly at the scene in front of him. 

“Dean! Wake the fuck up!” Seth yelled, still struggling against the hands on him. They managed to get him to the floor, a knee in his back keeping him there, hand holding his legs and arms still as a nurse approached with a needle. 

“Hold him still!” She said. 

Seth struggled as best he could, but was no match for the men holding him down. He did managed to get a hand free just as the needle broke the skin on his left ass cheek and got his fingers on Dean's foot. The drug worked fast and he could already feel himself fading. “D-Dean…”

“Ok, pick him up.” He vaguely heard Kane say and felt himself being lifted off the ground. “He's going to his room for the next 48 hours after this stunt. That should calm him down. Tell the cooks to send his food and pills there.”

The last thing he saw before he finally gave into the drugs was Dean look him directly in the eye...and wink.

…

…

…

He woke up with the worst headache he had ever had in his entire life. His mouth was so dry that gargling sand felt like a good alternative right about now. Opening his eyes was like sending shards of glass right through his retinas even in the harsh artificial light of wherever the hell he was. When he finally got his bearings and his vision cleared, he could see he was lying on his back looking up at a stark white ceiling with a single lamp covered by a metal grate; the walls were also white, as was the closed door. He was lying on something soft and lumpy. A mattress? If you could even call it that. 

Pulling himself up - and regretting it immediately as a wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks - he got a look around. The only thing in the room was him, the bed, and a sink with a silvered mirror above it. It couldn't be more than ten feet square, which left little room for anything else anyway. Gingerly he got to his feet and padded the three steps to the sink, turning on the faucet and grimacing as brown water flowed through first before it went clear. Splashing some on his face and running his wet hands through his much shorter hair, he felt a little more human. Looking at himself in the mirror he realized he probably looked anything but.

He hadn't seen himself without a beard since he was in his late teens, but at least some stubble had begun to grow back. He hated his hair and he wouldn't be able to stand it constantly falling in his eyes like it was. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He asked his reflection and shook his head when he got no answer - like he expected one from his own damn reflection. He needed to think. Last thing he remembered was being pissed off that Dean had dragged him out to see the abandoned place and now he was a fucking patient? Also, who was the faceless girl? Was she the one who brought him here? Was the real him hallucinating somewhere in his real life? Did he fall and hit his head? Why was Dean here? If Dean was here, was Roman? And what was up with Dean in the first place? How was he supposed to get back home?

Too many questions, not enough answers. It all made his head spin. 

“Rollins.” A voice called from outside the door. He could see two dark eyes looking at him through the small viewing window and approached. 

He knew those eyes. “Roman?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “How'd you know my name?”

“Roman, it's Seth.” 

“I know.” He said with a chuckle. “Says so on your tray. Look, I'm just here to give you your food so I can go to my room.” 

A slot opened and he slid a tray through. Seth took it but stared at the meager helping of rice, some corn, and a slice of bread. “This is prison food.”

Roman laughed that same laugh he had remembered from his time, the one that he usually reserved for Dean when he made a ridiculous statement or suggestion. “Where do you think you are?”

“An asylum?”

“Then the prisoners get better food.” He said. “Eat it, don't eat it. I don't care. I'm just here to deliver it.”

“Have you seen Dean?” Seth asked quickly before Roman could walk away. “I-I saw him and he didn't look right.”

“Dean who?”

“Ambrose.”

There was that laugh again. “My advice to you is to stay away from that lunatic. He gives the rest of us a bad name.”

“What was wrong with him?”

That laugh seemed to fade and a dark sort of fear creeped into his eyes. “That's none of our business. If you don't want it to happen to you, I'd drop it.”

With that, Roman walked away leaving Seth clutching a tray of what was essentially pig feed and more questions than answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference: Ian Fleming didn't publish the first James Bond novel until 1953.

“Rollins!”

The loud bang woke him up immediately. He didn't even remember falling asleep, but must have at some point. The door to his room was open and Kane's massive form filled the doorway almost completely. 

“I know I said 48hours, but seeing as it was your first day, I'll chalk what happened yesterday up to jitters.” He said, glaring at Seth like a bug that needed to be squashed immediately. “Besides, Dr. McMahon would like to evaluate you this morning. Get up.”

Though Seth did comply, he decided right then and there that he did not like this Kane. The way he looked at him was unnerving. Kane led him down several hallways until they came to what Seth would guess was the dining hall. There were tables spread out all over the large space that was just as bare and the same dirty white as the rest of the place. Weren't places like this supposed to be calming? Many of the people here were being assisted by nurses who looked like they had much better things to do with their time. 

A shove to his shoulder brought him back to the present. Kane just sort of glared at him like he was supposed to know what he was supposed to do. He saw a line of people with trays, so he that was step one and walked to it while glaring right back at Kane. 

Behind the counter were people giving out the food and Seth patiently waited his turn. He spotted Roman at the end of the line scooping out what he hoped was oatmeal. He looked different here. There was no long, tribal tattoo covering his right arm, nor did he have the longer hair Seth had grown so used to. This Roman was clean shaven, with hair that fell to just at the top of his shoulders, swept off his face and held back with a rubberband. When he reached him, Seth wanted to throw his arms around him like he had Dean, hoping he'd have much better luck with the coherent Samoan. He refrained, just held his tray up and let him dump what Seth now was positive was not oatmeal onto his plate. 

“Roman?” He said. 

Roman looked up and gave Seth a look like he wasn't expecting anyone to say his name. He also didn't look like he recognized him. 

“It's me. Seth.” 

Still no recognition.

“Rollins.”

“Oh yeah. The guy asking all the questions last night.” Roman said with the quirk of a smile. “You don't look how I expected you to look.”

Seth had to agree with him there, but put aside the thoughts on his new clean cut appearance.

“You're the one that thinks it's 2016, right?”

How had that gotten around so fast? “It was 24 hours ago.” He mumbled to himself. Then, “I wanna apologize for being nosy last night. I don't want to get off on the wrong foot.”

And he felt like they had. He needed someone he could trust in this place, even if Roman had no clue who he was other than a lunatic just like the rest of them. So he needed to make that first move. 

Roman just sort of shrugged. “It is what it is. You're far from the worst I've dealt with.” 

“Still, I don't know anyone here and you seemed nice enough.”

He snorted a laugh and nodded toward the door. “Looks like Kane is very interested in you.”

Seth looked back and frowned. Kane was leaning against a back wall and staring at him with an unreadable expression. 

“What you do to him?” Roman asked.

“Nothing that I know of.”

“Well, it isn't hard to make him mad.” Roman said. “You should go sit before he makes you. Trust me, he isn't above it.”

With a little nod and feeling better about Roman, he took the tray of what could only be described as gruel and found an empty table in the back by the large paned Windows, locked down tight with metal grates. Some of the patients were pulling at them, some were standing in corners, some were eating with their fingers, some were throwing their food at each other, and some were just staring blankly at nothing. He was struck again with how much he didn't belong here, how much he missed 2016, how much he missed Dean. God, he could be a giant asshole - and if he ever got home, he'd blame this all on him - but he loved him. He loved him so much it hurt. And he wasn't here. 

Or was he?

Seth still wasn't sure. He'd seen him. It was definitely Dean, but not _Dean_. Just like it was Roman, but not _Roman_. He felt lost and needed to find a way out of here...soon. 

A chair slammed down next to him, making him jump. Next thing he knew, he was being stared at by two curious, beautiful blue eyes. “So, you're the new meat, huh?”

Dean. 

His eyes lit up, he knew they had, but he held back from grabbing him and holding on for dear life. This Dean, whatever _this_ was, had no clue who he was, just like Roman. So he watched him flip the chair backwards and straddle it, resting his forearms on the back, hoping somehow he'd realize that this was Seth, his Seth. The look he was getting was curious interest, but not recognition, and that hurt more than Seth expected it to. 

But what happened to the incoherent mess he'd damn near tackled yesterday? This was nothing like that. He was so very _Dean_ , right down to the knowing little smirk lifting one corner of his mouth as his eyes wandered all over Seth's face. “You don't look familiar.”

Seth cleared his throat in an effort to keep it from breaking because that innocuous little statement was like getting hit with a brick. “No, I wouldn't to you.”

“You seemed like you knew me yesterday.” Dean pointed out, scooting his chair closer. 

Seth laughed dryly. “You looked out of your head yesterday.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged but there was a shift of something that could have been fear in his eyes that took Seth by surprise. It was gone as quickly as it appeared and that mischievous twinkle was back. “I like to fuck with the nurses sometimes.”

That was at least partially a lie, but Seth let it drop. “Why'd you wink at me?”

That smirk spread and Seth felt himself blush. “Good lookin’ guy like you hangin’ all over me? Why not?”

Seth felt his blush deepen and a smile creep across his face. He and his Dean had been dating so long, he'd forgotten what it was like to have him look at him like that, like he was the only person in the room. 

“You know,” Seth began after a beat, “I was told you give other patients a bad name.”

“Who told you that?” Seth looked over at Roman and Dean followed his gaze, frowning. “Roman Reigns?”

Seth cocked an eyebrow at him. “You two aren't friends?”

“Friends?!” Dean laughed. “Let me tell you something about me and Roman. I'm pretty sure if I was on fire and he had a glass of water, he'd fucking drink it.”

Seth slumped in his seat. Dean gave the frowning Roman a little, petulant wave. Ever the ball breaker apparently. 

“You look disappointed about that.” He said to Seth after he turned around to study him again. 

He was disappointed. The two people he cared about the most in his time, hated each other here. This was going to make it more difficult, especially since he could see Roman glaring at them from behind his station. But how could he tell Dean that? He'd think he was crazy. The irony wasn't lost on him. 

“I'm just...overwhelmed.”

That smirk was back and Seth felt himself flush for a third time. “Understandable. I mean, we're all psycho, crazy, off our rockers insane here.”

Seth felt like stating the obvious, that he wasn't crazy. But what was the point? 

“What are you in here for, anyway?” Dean asked suddenly and Seth just answered with a shrug because shit if he knew. “Someone commit you?”

“No, I signed myself in...I think.”

“You think?”

Another shrug. “I just sort of...blacked out and woke up in a military uniform with admission papers in my hand and a woman claiming to be my mother crying.”

It wasn't a complete lie, just not the whole truth. 

“So you're military?” Dean asked, skeptical for some reason. “You don't carry yourself like you're military.”

“I'm not.” 

“You just said you were in a military uniform.”

“It's a long story.” He sighed, not wanting to see that look pity look on Dean's face. Not from him.

Dean shrugged and winked at him, “I got time.” 

Seth smiled at him and was about to say something further but was stopped by a large hand on his shoulder. Kane was looming over him like a sentry about to take him to the gallows. He'd only talked to the doctor once, but that couldn't be that far off of a description. “Time to go, Seth. Doc’s waiting.”

“Can't you see he hasn't finished eating?” Dean chimed in and the look Kane gave him was probably enough to set any normal man on fire. Dean just sort of smirked. So not much difference between the Deans’ personalities, Seth noted. 

“Back off, Ambrose.” Kane snarled. “You want to spend the rest of the day cleaning toilets?”

Dean threw up his hands in surrender and stood up from the table, that ever present smirk still playing on his lips. “Message recieved, boss.” Then he looked down at Seth and winked. “See you later, _Seth_.”

Kane led Seth through the massive complex to the doctor's office in silence. It wasn't the same office he'd been in when he was admitted. This one was far more sparse, consisting of a desk and two chairs bolted to the floor. That seemed odd, but it was a mental institution. Dr. McMahon was sitting behind the desk, writing on a pad of paper, not even looking up when Kane told Seth to sit and left. 

There was long, uncomfortable silence while the doctor scribbled on the paper. So long, in fact, that Seth cleared his throat to get the older mans attention. When he finally looked up, he regarded Seth much like Kane had. It was obvious that this doctor was only here because he had to be and not because he cared. If he did, the _I'm better than you_ look on his face wouldn't be there. That annoyed Seth. 

“Mr. Rollins,” he began after a moment of sizing Seth up. “This evaluation should be brief as I believe I've already gotten all I need for treatment from our first meeting.”

“You talked to me for two minutes...maybe.” 

A haughty snort. “Well, a doctor of my stature prides himself on being able to read his patients. Besides, your mother and I…”

“That woman wasn't my mother.” Seth interrupted. “Aren't you going to do any medical tests before deciding I'm crazy?”

The doctor set his jaw, annoyed. “Fine. What year were you born?”

“1986.”

“I rest my case.” Said the doctor, satisfied. “How can you be born 40 years in the future?”

“Because I _was_ born 40 years in the future!” Seth snapped.

“Prove it.”

Seth sat back in his chair, suddenly wishing he'd paid way more attention in history class. How was he supposed to prove he was from the future? He knew generalized historical events immediately following World War II, but not enough to make it convincing. “I can't. Now without googling it.”

The doctor cocked an eyebrow. “Google?” 

“Yeah, how you look things up on the Internet.”

The blank, confused look on his face was enough to let Seth know he probably shouldn't have said that if he wanted to be perceived as a sane, rational individual. 

“Mr. Rollins, you keep using these terms like ‘google’, ‘internet’, ‘cell phone’, and I'm wondering if they have something to do with the time you spent overseas.” Said the doctor in his very doctor tone. “Kane told me about your tattoo.”

Seths stomach dropped. This again? “Yeah, what of it?”

“Some might suggest that maybe you were working for the enemy.” He said, the warning in his voice not lost on Seth. “Maybe they have some sort of technology we don't know about. Maybe you helped them. Maybe they made you forget.”

Seth laughed at the sheer stupidity of what he was suggesting. “I'm not a fucking spy, if that's what you're getting at.”

“You sure?”

“That James Bond shit doesn't happen to people like me!” 

“And who is James Bond? Was he also working with the enemy?”

Shit. The books must not have been written yet. “No. Look, I am not crazy, I'm not a soldier, and I most certainly am not some spy.”

“Ok.” Said the doctor and folded his hands in front of him. “Suppose you're right. How did you get here?”

Seth hesitated to answer. How was he going to say that he was walking around the abandoned asylum, stormed off pissed at his boyfriend, ran into a faceless woman, and woke up here? So he just shrugged his answer. 

“Mr. Rollins, I think you know that you have a problem, otherwise you wouldn't have signed yourself in under my care.” The doctor said. “That's a good sign. I'm going to put you on some anti-psychotics and we'll continue to evaluate you throughout your stay.”

“I'm not taking any pills.” 

“You can take them or Kane can make you. It doesn't matter to me either way.” 

“You know, you can't treat people the way you do here. It's barbaric.”

“This is the best mental health facility in the state of Iowa.”

“I want to sign myself out.” 

The doctor drew in a breath and released it slowly. “You can't. Your mother co-signed your admission. Unless she agrees, you are a patient here until I deem you sane enough to rejoin society.” 

“And what qualifies as _sane_ in your book, doc?” Seth asked, leaning forward and eyeing the older man carefully. “Because Roman Reigns looked pretty sane to me. So did Dean Ambrose.”

“I'd advise you to stay away from Dean Ambrose.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because aligning yourself with him would bring you nothing but trouble.”

And with that, the session was over. It didn't matter anymore what Seth had to say, how much more he protested, or how loud he got, the Dr. McMahon was done speaking to him. Kane entered and almost pulled him from the room. 

If he couldn't find a way out of here, he was screwed.


	4. Chapter 4

His chances were slim, he knew that, but he couldn't let that stop him. It was clear now, escape or be stuck in this hell hole for the foreseeable future. That Doctor wasn't going to let him go, he had no motivation to declare him sane.this was some sort of hustle, he could smell it from a mile away.

This was misdirection, it had to be. If he'd learned anything from all those stupid horror movies and fucked up documentaries that Dean made him watch, it was that nine times out of ten, places like this get overcrowded thanks to budgets. The good doctor was awfully well dressed for someone who was reliant on budgets for his salary. Something else was going on. Doctor McMahon didn't care about his patients. If he did, there wouldn't be as many people here, they'd be getting better and not licking the walls like the poor man he found himself watching from the couch in the corner of the common area. Kane had brought him back here after that disastrous meeting with the Doctor and he found himself watching and learning. He had to. Maybe if he could get out, he could get a message to his Dean somehow, tell him where he was. 

“That's so stupid.” He muttered to himself and rubbed at the growing headache making his temples throb. But what other option did he have? Stay here? No fucking way. Not with Doctor apathy and Kane his enforcer. 

Looking around at these people only made him angrier. Like the poor man still licking the wall. Did he have a family? Did that family think he was getting better? Did they care? He had a feeling the answer was no, which did nothing for the growing knot of anxiety in his chest. In his time, these were places to get healthy with proper medical care, treatments, and regulations in place to protect patients. Here? Here, places like this were where you put someone you want to forget about. 

They were nameless…

No one…

“You look like someone who needs some medication.” He heard and felt the lumpy sofa dip as Dean plopped down next to him. That knot of anxiety seemed to loosen ever so slightly at his presence, but he wasn't going to let himself get his hopes up. This wasn't his Dean, despite how his stomach fluttered at his proximity...and that stupid fucking grin. “I can help you if you want.”

“I'm not taking any pills.” He replied, rolling his eyes and getting a familiar shrug in response.

“Just trying to help you loosen up.” He said. “You're wound so tight.”

He took a deep breath and let it out in an attempt to dislodge more of that knot. “I don't belong here.”

Dean laughed, which annoyed him. At least this Dean still had a knack for that. “No one belongs here.” He pointed out. “We're put here.”

“Were you put here?” He asked and immediately regretted it. Deans smile disappeared and he looked away like he was remembering something he didn't want to. Seth found himself curious what had happened to him to put that look on his face, to put him here, to make everyone label him as someone to stay away from? 

“That,” Dean said after a breath, a practiced smirk back on his face. “is a long story.”

“I have time.” Seth said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile, mirroring Dean's own statement to him this morning. Dean just sort of stared at him, his face and smile tight. He wasn't going to answer, so Seth let it go. Maybe poking the bear just yet wasn't the best idea, but he'd file it away as something he would get to the bottom of later. “Why do people keep telling me to stay away from you?”

“I'm crazy. Haven't you heard?” He answered, his smile now more relaxed and playful then it had been. 

“I'm being serious.”

“So am I.” He countered. “I had an...episode. Hurt a patient and a nurse pretty badly. Now no one talks to me because I might _hurt_ someone. It's all a calculated ploy to keep me isolated, I get that.” Then a prideful smile flitted across his face. “I don't really mind, though. A certain reputation keeps the demons at bay.”

“Doesn't it bother you?”

Another shrug. “Not really. I'm better off without anyone.”

That was most definitely a lie. He could see it in the way Dean clenched his jaw, how he flexed his fingers, how his eyes flicked away for the briefest of seconds. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone and that smug demeanor was back and he looked Seth over with a kind of curiosity. “You aren't afraid of me, are you?”

“You haven't given me a reason to be yet.”

Dean smiled at that, a genuine smile. “You're an interesting creature, Mr. 2016.”

“If no one talks to you, how'd you know that?” Asked Seth, curious.

Dean pulled himself to his feet and stretched out his long body. “Just because no one talks to me, doesn't mean I don't listen.” Then he leaned in close, his breath tickling Seth's ear and a shiver rolled down his spine. “For the record, I believe you.” He whispered, straightened up, smirked, and walked away whistling. 

He had a habit of leaving just when Seth needed more answers, and he was about to chase after him and try to get to the bottom of what he meant, but there was Kane looking down at him like he needed to be squashed. “Time to earn your keep.”

Seth followed him again through the complex, trying to make a mental note of everything they passed. Problem was that everything was starting to look the same. Same white hallways with their white walls, same rooms lined up one after the other, same uniforms, same everything. It was disorienting, which may have been the point. Take away an identity, build up a functioning member of society. Ugh, that knot in his chest tightened at the thought.

“The doctor thinks you need to be kept busy while you're here.” Kane said, dry and coarse. “Most higher functioning patients will work as therapy. Doctor McMahon thinks it’s good for them.”

“And what do you think?” Seth asked, growing bolder as his annoyance with the big man grew.

He could barely make out the growl. “If it were up to me, everyone would be confined to their rooms.”

“Good thing it's not.” He mumbled to himself. 

They continued in silence, Seth lost in his own thoughts. These nameless web of hallways were going to be a problem. It was too easy to get lost, especially since he'd only been here for about 24 hours and Kane had a knack for hovering. He was going to need help. Dean would be the obvious choice, but Seth wasn't sure he _wanted_ to go. Then there was Roman, who seemed to have a good handle on what was going on. Maybe he’d be willing to help. 

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't see her. It was like a flash out of the corner of his eye and he stopped in his tracks. There she was, the faceless woman. If she had eyes, they'd be looking right at him, he could almost feel the itch of the phantom gaze on his skin. She looked exactly as he remembered her and he was about to run after her, desperate for some sort of answer, when large fingers wrapped around his forearm and tugged. 

“No falling behind!” Kane snapped at him. “Honestly, if you patients would just cooperate…”

“But...but...the woman…no face!” Seth stammered, pointing at her. But when he looked back, she was gone and Kane was looking at him like he were more crazy than normal. 

“C’mon.” He tugged Seth after him and kept a firm grip on his arm. It hurt, but Seth was in too much shock to really make a fuss. He’d seen her again! First in his time and now here! What was she? _Who_ was she? Was she the one who brought him here? If so, why? 

Again, so many questions his head was swimming and he didn't realize he was standing in the kitchen until Kane gave him a shove. “Don’t fuck it up, Rollins.” He’d said before he left. “I’m watching you.”

Wait? The kitchens? So that would mean…

“Hey, it's future boy!” Roman said, bright and happy, a tray of something in his hands. “Guess you're working with me, huh?”

Seth was a little stunned after seeing the faceless woman and not quite sure what to do, so he just sort of nodded. Roman laughed and shook his head, motioning him forward to follow him. 

“In all honesty, this is probably the easiest job in the asylum.” He handed Seth a tray and continued walking. “We make the food, they eat it, we clean up. Easy enough, right?”

Seth nodded, still not really listening. 

“Are you okay?” Roman asked, eyeing him like he was afraid Seth may be sick or something. The way he felt, it was a distinct possibility. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Yes, he probably had. “I-I'm not sure.”

“Here, sit down before you fall down.” Roman pulled out a chair and directed Seth to sit, then he handed him a glass of water. “What happened?”

“You'll think I'm crazy.” 

The look he was getting was enough, Roman already thought he was crazy. “It's an asylum, future boy. Everyone is crazy here.”

“You don't seem crazy?”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Roman chuckled. “Now, did Kane do something to you?”

“No.” He answered honestly. At least he hadn't done anything to him yet. “There was...a woman...I think.”

“You think?” Skeptical.

“S-she had no...face.”

Still skeptical. “No face?”

“Told you you'd think I was crazy.” He laughed, more to himself because if this wasn't the definition of insanity then he didn't know what was. 

But Roman surprised him by clapping him on the shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. “To be honest, I thought it was going to be worse.”

“I just told you I saw a faceless woman and you aren't even going to bat an eyelash at me?”

“When you've had conversations with people who think they're Napoleon, then we'll talk about batting eyelashes.” 

“So...you don't think I'm crazy?”

Roman laughed. “I never said that.” Then helped Seth to his feet. “C’mon, I'll show you what to do. Lunch is in an hour.”


	5. Chapter 5

Surprisingly, the rest of the day had gone off without any major problems. Even Kane had left him alone while he worked. The food they made for the building was absolutely disgusting and he found himself longing for a cheeseburger and French fries. Hell, even a Big Mac would be perfect right now. He'd said that to Roman who asked him what a Big Mac was and Seth had to try and explain McDonald's to someone who had never seen one. Eventually, he gave up. It was some sort of soup for dinner, though he saw nothing that even remotely resembled a vegetable go into the broth cooking in a big pot. Roman had called it Chicken Noodle, but Seth wasn't sure that was chicken either. 

Roman, however, was proving to be thoughtful, smart, and observant. He was a big man with a big heart and it was still a mystery as to why he was even here. Maybe he was one of the ones who was actually getting better rather than worse. He seemed to genuinely care about people and noted the problems of the other patients to Seth with respect and care rather than disdain and condescendence when they served lunch and dinner. 

“That's Becky.” He had said, nodding toward a beautiful woman with orange hair sitting by herself in the corner. She was staring out the window, lost in her own head, not even reacting when a nurse sat down next to her to help her eat. “She came to the US from Ireland. Her husband, Finn, hasn't been seen since he was deployed. She couldn't handle the grief and her sister had her sent here.”

To Seth, that sounded like anxiety and depression, not exactly a committable offense in his time but not unheard of. 

“Over there,” he pointed with his serving spoon to a man dark skinned man sitting next to a trombone and talking to it like it were a living, breathing entity. “That's Xavier. The trombones name is Franchesca. He was stationed in Hawaii with his friends. He still thinks they're there talking to him. He seems happy.”

Hawaii? He wasn’t the best at history, but he knew Pearl Harbor would have only been only 5 short years ago for the people living here. He had read somewhere that before 9/11, it was the greatest loss of life on American soil by a foreign attack. 

He felt for them, everyone Roman pointed out had either been directly or indirectly affected by the war, and Seth could sort of relate. He’d had known people who had went to go fight in Afghanistan. War was devastating no matter the time period.

“So is everyone here effected by the war?” He'd asked. 

Roman just sort of shrugged his answer, half paying attention and focusing on pouring soup into bowls. Maybe now was the time to get some answers about Dean out of him. No one else was going to and Roman seemed at least partially willing to talk about things like why someone was committed. So he asked, carefully. “Even Dean?”

Roman stopped pouring and peered at him from the side of his eyes. His demeanor had changed drastically from a carefree smile, to a tight set to his mouth. “Why are you so curious about Dean Ambrose?”

He couldn't say that it was because in his time, Roman and Dean were best friends, that Seth and Dean were together, that he loved him more than life, that he could be a douche sometimes, but that he was his. In 1946, he knew admitting that was probably not the best of ideas. So instead, he deflected the question and asked why Roman hated him so much?

Roman dropped the ladle into the pot and faced Seth fully with his hand planted on his hips and murder in his eyes. “I told you before, stay away from Dean Ambrose.”

Seth stood his ground. “Why?”

Roman took the pot and stormed into the kitchen. Undeterred, and a little pissed off, Seth followed him just in time to see him slam the pot into the large, steel sink and hang his head in frustration. He was taking several deep breaths, counting to himself as his hands held so tightly on to the edge of the sink his knuckles were white. 

“Roman?”

The flip of the switch was startling and he barely had any time to brace himself before a fist was wrapped up in his shirt and he was face to face with a fuming Samoan. Was this why he was here? Anger? Rage? The change had been so drastic, so quickly, that it was frightening. Plus, the seething storm that was Roman Reigns was intimidating even in his time. He and Dean had had some fights in the past that almost ended in the police being called.

“ _You_ should stop sticking your nose places where it could get broken!”

He swallowed hard “Just answer the question.” A beat. “Please.”

Roman stared at him for another few seconds before shoving him away and into the counter behind him. He lifted the white issued shirt and revealed a long, angry scar down the right side of his chest. “That's why he's dangerous.” He dropped his shirt back into place. “Despite popular belief, I didn't _always_ hate him. He used to work in the kitchen with me and I actually liked the asshole. Him and I were talking about Germany and he snapped. The knife just missed my lung. A nurse heard us fighting and came running in.”

Another hard swallow. “He hurt her too?”

“Yeah, bad.” Roman clarified. “It took Kane and five orderlies to subdue him.”

Seth thought for a second and took everything in. They were talking about the war when Dean snapped. Dean had called it an episode before, and such a dramatic shift could be only one thing. “PTSD?” 

Roman frowned. “What's PTSD?”

Seth looked up at Roman. “Post traumatic stress disorder. You triggered an episode.”

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You can't just make up disorders and blame the victim!”

“What happened after?”

Roman shook his head, baffled. “Who cares what happened? He _stabbed_ me!”

“Humor me.”

He sighed. “I don’t know. He disappeared for three weeks and came back...different.”

“Different?”

He busied himself with dumping the remnants of the soup down the drain and cleaning the pot. “He gets sort of...out of it.”

“Gets? Like it still happens?”

Roman nodded, not looking at him. “Look, it happens all the time, patients disappear for a few days and they come back acting like they've been kicked in the head by a horse for a few days and they're right as rain. It's probably some sort of therapy.”

“You never questioned it?” Seth was right at Roman's side now, trying to see his eyes. “Didn't it strike you as strange?”

He shook his head. “In my experience, the less you question the better. It’s not what soldiers do.”

“You were a soldier?”

Roman let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head to his chest. “Not by choice. I was drafted. I was stationed in France until I got injured.” he paused and looked at Seth, anticipating his next question before he could ask it. “And before you ask, so was Dean. I was Army, he was Air Force. From what I hear, he was one hell of a pilot before his plane was shot down.”

“He's a pilot?” 

“ _Was_ a pilot.”

“Hey!” They both turned toward the door where Kane was glaring at them. “Finish up! Lockdown in 20.”

And he was gone, leaving them to stare at each other and contemplate their previous conversation. And Seth had a lot to contemplate. 

\---

He was meant to go stand by his door at the beginning of lockdown - which felt more like prison than a hospital - and wait. The previous night he had caused a scene and was drugged before waking up locked in his room. Tonight he was able to get a good look at his neighbors. Turns out Dean's room was right down the hall from his and the auburn man caught his eye and winked. Seth smiled back. 

A nurse was going from patient to patient, handing them small cups with pills and watching with Kane at her back for them to swallow and show her their tongue. Dean did it with no problem, and even mock saluted Kane as he passed him. When they got to Seth, she handed him a container with two blue pills and a white one. He stared at them and handed them back. “I'm not taking these.”

“Mr. Rollins…” She said with an almost pitying tone to her harsh voice and again tried to hand him the pills, which he refused. “You need to take these.”

He held his ground. “No. I don't know what they are or what they'll do to me.”

Kane bent down until he was about an inch away from Seth's face. “Take them, or I'll make you take them. Your choice.”

It was most definitely a threat, and one Kane would enjoy carrying out if the small smirk was any indication. Not really looking to have Kane shove pills down his throat, he tentatively took them and swallowed them dry, praying whatever they were wouldn't kill him, and showed them his tongue. Then they moved on. 

He looked over at Dean who was smiling at him. He would have smiled back, but he was too busy wondering what crazy side effects he had to look forward too. That's when Dean stuck out his tongue. There on the surface were three pills. He must have hid them in his mouth.

Clever. 

Why hadn’t he thought of that? 

They were all instructed to step into their respective rooms and Kane came by and closed every door and locked it, still smirking when he gave Seth a little shove back. He made sure to glare at the behemoth of a man until he couldn't see him anymore. 

He sat on the bed and thought about the events of this very eventful day until whatever pills they had given him started to take hold. It didn't take long, maybe 20 minutes, but soon it was like he couldn't keep his eyes open. His brain went fuzzy and he could barely concentrate on keeping upright. His limbs suddenly felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, even when he laid back on the lumpy bed. What had they given him?

Soon, his eyes slid closed and he drifted off into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference: McDonald's as we know it wasn't founded until 1955
> 
> PTSD wasn't recognized as a diagnosable disorder until 1980.


	6. Chapter 6

His head was killing him when his eyes cracked open sometime later. The door was still closed, and everything seemed quiet, so he could assume that they were still in night time lockdown. He pulled himself to a sitting position and immediately had to choke back a wave of nausea so strong he was on the verge of dry heaving. These 1940’s drugs really pack a punch. 

Shaking out his fuzzy brain, he didn't see her standing there right in front of him until he heard her voice echoing off the white walls. _Help him!_

His eyes shot up and he gasped, pushing himself as far against the wall as he could physically get without actually being absorbed into it. The faceless woman was looking -he supposed- directly at him. Even though she had no features, there was a feeling of sadness and pain radiating off of her. It filled the room like a heavy fog and settled in Seths chest like a knot. He was still frightened of her, her appearance as unnerving as it had ever been, but he didn't feel threatened. It was enough for him to peel himself from wall and muster his courage. “Help w-who?”

She answered by pointing to the door. Following her finger, he warily pulled himself to his feet, eyes on her until he got to the door. Peering out the small window, he saw Kane and two other large orderlies wheeling a gurney, complete with arm and leg restraints down the hall towards Dean's room. He could just barely see them stop right at his door. 

“Get ready.” He heard Kane say to the other two. “He never likes to cooperate.”

Then the sound of a door squeaking open. It was quiet for a few seconds, but it didn't last long. The muffled sounds of a struggle began filling the hallway along with Dean's voice. “No...please! No! Not again! Please!”

“What are they doing to him?” Seth asked himself, forgetting about the faceless woman until she spoke. 

_The same thing they did to me._ That feeling of sadness filled the room again and the knot in his chest tightened. 

The sounds of struggle seemed to stop, but dean was still yelling for help. They came into view with Dean now strapped to the gurney by his arms, legs, and chest, pulling and struggling to get free. He must have put up one hell of a fight because Kane and the other orderlies were bleeding from various parts of their face. “Please don't do this! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want! Just...please!”

“Shut up, Ambrose.” Kane said, unfeeling and disinterested, slapping him in the face hard. 

“Can't we just drug him?” Asked one of the others.

The glare from Kane was hard. “You know they don't want him impaired any more than necessary.” 

The terrified, pained groan that left Dean's lips broke Seths heart in two. This might not be his Dean, but whatever they were about to do to him scared the other man to death, he could see it in what little he could see of his eyes. 

“What the fuck is happening here?” He spat into the room, turning and half expecting to find the faceless woman gone. She was still standing there, and that feeling of sadness had shifted to that of anger and the need for retribution. 

_Help him._

“Is that why you brought me here?”

She nodded. _Help him._

He tugged his hair in frustration. “Why me?”

_You love him._

“That isn't my Dean!” He was close to yelling at this point. “My Dean won't even be born for another 39 years!”

_Help him._

She kept repeating that like Seth could really do anything for this Dean at this point. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to do it? What if something bad happened? But he knew he couldn't just sit back and do nothing. 

“If I help him, will you send me home?”

She nodded.

That was a step in the right direction. But the problem remained that he was still stuck in this room with no way out, and he was about to mention something about it when a clicking noise drew his attention to the door. Did she just…?

Pushing slightly on the frame, the heavy door opened slightly. When he looked back to say something about it, she was gone. 

“Great.” He sighed and turned back to the door. Pushing it open further, he slipped through and into the hallway, closing it behind him and praying to God it would open again if he needed it to. “This is a bad idea. This is how horror movies start...creepy asylum hallways…” he whispered to himself and scoffed because _of course_ he was in some fucked up horror movie. It had to be. 

He could still hear Kane, his men, and Dean pleading, so that was the direction he headed, repeating over and over to himself that this was a bad idea. “You're listening to a ghost.” He mumbled to himself. “And talking to yourself.”

He followed them until the disappeared through a set of unassuming double doors and paused. There could be anything beyond them. For all he knew, he could be walking into some sort of trap. It was a faceless woman who told him to do this after all. But she promised to send him home, to his time and his Dean. 

“C’mon Seth, you can do this.” He mustered up his courage, taking a deep breath, and warily pushed through the doors into a dark hallway. He'd expected another nameless, cookie cutter set of rooms like the rest of this place, but he was met with dark stone and a ramp leading down with only minimal lighting and the sounds of his target to guide him. These must be the tunnels that his Dean was looking for. “Yup, definitely in a horror movie.”

He made sure to stay a ways back, because getting caught wasn't part of the plan. God only knew what the punishment for _that_ would be and he preferred not to incur the wrath of Kane. He was pretty sure the large man already hated him and wouldn't need much of a push to make his life a living hell. Besides, there wasn't much by way of hiding places, making him feel exposed and vulnerable; not the best feeling in a creepy, medieval tunnel system in the basement of an insane asylum. 

Dean’s pleas were getting more desperate the further they went and Seth could swear he could he him sniffing distressed sobs at Kane. “Please...I'm begging you…please.”

“Quiet!” was all Kane said back, completely unfeeling and uncaring. “You’d think this would make you more cooperative, Ambrose. They should ramp up whatever it is Dr. Wyatt is doing because it’s not working.”

“Fuck You!” Dean yelled back and Seth felt a pang of pride in his chest at his defiance.

They passed through another set of double doors and, rather than follow them through, Seth peered through the small window inset on the left side. An operating room is the best way he could describe what he was looking at, surrounded on all sides by that same dark stone. The feeling was clinical while still being something out of the Spanish Inquisition. Interesting and terrifying.

Kane wheeled Dean to the center of the room, right in front of a man who he assumed must be this Dr. Wyatt. He didn't look like any doctor Seth had ever seen, save for the medical lab coat and name badge hanging from his pocket. But he was frightening to look at with his long hair and thick beard, itchy fingers waiting to claw at Dean, and sickeningly giddy eyes. But that wasn't what made him so horrifying, that honor could only go to the sickeningly excited smile. 

“Hello again, Dean.” He said, stroking down the side of Dean's face. To his credit, he tried to pull away. 

Another voice drew his attention away. “Dr. Wyatt, we are very busy and would like to get this demonstration underway.” 

Two men in black suits were standing off to the side with Dr. McMahon. What was unnerving about them was the completely blank expression they both wore. Government maybe? He wasn't sure, but he didn't like them. 

“Right.” Said Wyatt, happily clapping his hands together and instructing Kane and the other two orderlies to strap Dean in tighter. Though he fought against them, it didn't take much for them to completely immobilize him. 

Seths heart was pounding in his chest at the scene unfolding, chest rising and falling with each deep lung full to match Deans terrified breaths. What were they going to do to him? 

He could only watch as Wyatt shoved a bite guard between Dean's teeth and pulled a large needle from his tray of horrors. Then he addressed the men watching carefully. “The drugs in his system will make him malleable, like a child waiting for the first snow in Christmas...innocent and perfect.”

What the fuck did that mean? He continued spouting rhetoric until one of the suited men held up a hand to stop him. “Please just give us the basics.”

“Fine.” Wyatt seemed almost insulted they had stopped him. “The subject you have so delightfully code named ‘Moxley’ will essentially go into shock and his brain will cease to send signals to the body. The shock to the temples will wake it up for brief periods of time allowing him to speak with us. Because he is so close to the veil, he will be able to see and understand things we cannot. You can ask him questions in these periods and he will find you answers, no matter where they are.”

“You've made him psychic?” One of the men asked and Wyatt nodded.

“The mind is a wonderfully strange playground.” 

“What happens if the shocks don't work and his brain doesn't wake up?” Asked the other.

Wyatts face seemed to shift slightly to something akin to sadness. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. “We find another subject. Ones with deep seeded combat experience seem to work best. ‘Moxley’ has proven that.”

“Is that what happened to codename ‘Abigale’?”

Again Wyatt's face shifted and he ignored the question, opting to begin the process rather than answer. Though he struggled to pull away, the doctor was easily able to insert the needle into deans arm and inject whatever drug cocktail he had concocted into him. “Please have your questions ready, the process should only take a few minutes.”

Seths heart was in his throat as he watched Dean seize and shake and strain as whatever was given to him coursed through his veins. Tears were in his eyes and he screamed behind the bite guard in his mouth. He wanted to run to him, wanted to help, wanted to do anything but stand there watching in horror as he fought against the pain. 

Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped and Dean fell limp against the restraints, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Wyatt pulled the bite guard from his teeth and pressed his ear to his chest. Had they just killed him? Did they just kill Dean? If Seth could imagine the worst thing possible, it would be watching the love of his life, even if just in appearance only, die on a table in the middle of an examination room straight out of his nightmares. He had to cover his mouth with his hands to keep from sobbing. 

“Ok, bring me the electrodes.” Wyatt instructed and Kane approached with two sticks with a wire leading to a charge box. He stood at Deans head and told Kane to turn the box on to the fourth setting. “He will be able to answer questions no longer than a minute before the drug takes hold again. We can repeat this process for several hours before the drug wears off.” 

He touched the electrodes to deans temples and his body lurched up, pulling as every muscle sprang to life again before falling limp again. One more touch and his gasped a breath loud and long as his brain reminded his body to breathe. Wyatt nodded to the two men in suits who quickly pulled out notepads and pens. 

“What are the whereabouts of Adolph Hitler?”

He could barely hear him, his voice dreamy and far away, but he answered them without ever tearing clouded and unfocused eyes away from the ceiling. “Deeeeeaaad.”

They both looked at Wyatt in amazement, but he was busy watching his watch. 

“Is the Russian threat legitimate?”

“Sssssstaaaalin willlllll...nnnnnot baaaack downnnn.”

“Where will they attack?”

No answer. His chest fell in a huff of breath and Wyatt called for the electrodes again and the process repeated. The two government men continued asking questions and Dean continued answering. Seth watched as long as his stomach could stand before hauling off back the way he had come, overwhelmed with fear and revulsion at what he had just witnessed. How was he supposed to help him? How was he supposed to keep him safe? This was sick, absolutely horrifying. 

The faceless woman was sitting on his bed when he managed to slip back unnoticed, sobbing and falling back against the wall only to slide to the floor. “What the fuck is happening to him?”

_Psychic research_

“Why?”

_Because I wasn't strong enough._

“Are you Abigale?”

She nodded. _Soldiers work best._

He sniffed, “What does that mean?”

_They have seen death, so it welcomes them._

“What am I supposed to do?”

_Help him._


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up curled into himself on the cold floor sometime later with Kane nudging him in the ribs with the toe of his shoe. 

“Get up, Rollins. You have work.”

His eyes immediately went to the bed where the faceless woman had been sitting only to find it empty. He half wondered if the whole ordeal last night had been a dream or some wicked hallucination caused by the drugs he was given. But it had been so real. All of it. He could still hear Dean pleading for them to stop, see him struggle, remember what they had done to him...what Kane had been a part of. Should he say something? Should he stand up to the man looking at him like a bug that needed to be squashed? 

How could he? He had no plan yet, and he wasn't even sure he could do it by himself anyway. He'd need help. 

And he knew just the person.

Problem was, this person hated Dean with a passion. He'd sooner hand him over to that Dr. Wyatt and his hellacious experiments then look at him. But Roman was the only one that Seth felt he could trust. Maybe it was the memories of the Roman of his time, but this Roman was his only hope at this point. Would he help? Maybe. But he’d probably take some convincing. 

“What's wrong with you, Rollins?” Kane asked as he led the way towards the kitchen. Seth had been so lost in thought he didn't even realize he had been following the man. 

Despite what he wanted to say, he kept his mouth shut for the time being, only offering a shrug as his answer. Thankfully, Kane wasn't in the mood to push the issue. If he had, Seth wasn't sure what would leave his mouth but it most definitely would get him in trouble and that was the last thing he needed. He was no help to Dean then. 

He wondered if Dean would be at breakfast. Probably not. He hoped they at least stopped whatever hellacious torture session they had put him through. A shiver found its way up his spine at the thought of dying over and over only to be brought back again and again. Or not in the case of Abigail. She didn't make it and was now trying to stop it from happening again. 

“Hey, Seth.” Roman said with a nod as he entered the kitchen, still pretty lost in his own head. The big Samoan was in the middle of chopping up some sort of vegetable that had definitely seen better days, but Seth wasn’t concerned about the food. His mind was somewhere else entirely. Like to the back table, hidden in the corner, where Dean was sitting with his head lolled against his chest and a nurse picking at her fingernails, looking just about annoyed as someone could physically be. She must have been tasked with feeding him today because he sure as hell looked in no shape to feed himself. He could barely move. Hell he looked like he was barely breathing at all. 

That anger found its way into his chest and squeezed. _They_ had done this to him. _They_ had made him a zombie and he found himself growling despite himself. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Roman asked, concerned, but not for the reason he should be. 

“I’m fine.” he answered through gritted teeth.

Roman obviously didn't believe him. “You sure? Because you look like you might snap. What are you looking at anyway?”

He followed Seth's eyeline and he could almost hear the frown form on his face. “Dean again? You really should just leave him alone.”

Seth snorted a laugh because how could he do that now? “Look at him, Roman. Doesn't that bother you?”

“No.” was the clipped answer, and an obvious lie if Seth ever heard one. Maybe the big man did have a heart. “What happens to Dean is none of my business.”

Seth glared at him and he took a step back. He swiped a bowl from the pot of whatever was simmering there and left the kitchen in a huff, ignoring Roman calling after him. He had to talk to Dean.

He approached the table and the nurse looked up at him expectantly. “Is that his?”

He nodded. When she went to reach for it, he pulled it away. “They asked me to do it.”

She bought it with a shrug. It was one less unpleasant thing she had to do, so what was it to her if Seth fed him as opposed to taking the time out of her day to do something she really didn't want to anyway? She couldn't have gotten up fast enough and was gone before he could even say another word. It didn't matter anyway. 

He took her spot and put the bowl down to look Dean over. His eyes were open, but they had absolutely no life to them, not like they had yesterday. That smug, defiant, cocky Dean was gone, replaced with a shell of a man drooling onto his own shirt. 

“Dean?” he tried carefully. No answer but some indiscernible little whimper left his lips. That was something, at least he wasn't completely gone. “Dean, can you look at me?”

He blinked a few times, like he was trying to comply, but blue eyes remained staring at the hands lying limply in his lap. Seth took one and squeezed, leaning down in hopes to catch his eye. 

“I know what they did to you.” he whispered and there was a flash of something that crossed Dean’s face. Relief maybe? “I saw everything. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Limp fingers curled into his and Seth smiled. “T-th-ank...y-yo-u.”

Though he smiled to reassure him, Seth's heart was breaking and he had to sniff back tears as he lifted Dean’s head to spoon a mouthful of whatever this was into his mouth. It dribbled right back out and onto his chin. He was so weak, he couldn't even swallow his food. How did they expect him to eat? They probably didn't care and that knot of anger again settled itself right next to his broken heart. He tried again, this time leaning his head back a little further in hopes it would slide easily into the back of his mouth so he could swallow. It did nothing but cause him to cough and sputter. He didn't try again after that, preferring to just sit and comfort him as best he could, even if that meant just holding his hand. 

“Yeah, Roman isn't the best cook, is he?” he joked, trying to at least get a smile out of Dean. He succeeded in not only getting a little grin, but a small snort. At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. 

“Rollins!” Kane shouted from across the room and he looked up. The big man didn't look happy, but when did he ever? He stalked over to seth and the closer he got, the tighter Dean’s grip on his hand became. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding Dean.” he answered. “I figured the bowl of food sitting right here would make it obvious.”

“Why isn’t a nurse doing that?”

He merely shrugged his answer, which made that perma-scowl deepen on Kanes face. 

“I don’t like your attitude, Rollins.”

He snorted a laugh, though Dean seemed to squeeze his hand tighter as if warning him not to push any further. So he didn’t...yet.

Kane wasn't going to let it drop now, however. “You’ve been nothing but a problem since you got here.”

“I've done nothing but comply with this institutions bullshit since I got here!” he was on his feet now, still holding onto Dean’s hand. “You know, the patients here are _people_ , Kane.”

The hulk of a man grabbed Seth by his shirt and pulled him so his face was mere inches away and smirked deviously. “I think you’ve earned yourself a trip to _therapy_ , Rollins.”

“Fuck you, Kane.”

That was the wrong thing to say and Kane dragged him by the shirt out of the dining hall. He caught a glimpse of Roman shaking his head, but that was about it. He wasn’t worried about Roman, it was Dean who didn't seem to want to let go of his hand but was too weak to hold on. He was still sitting in the chair motionless when Seth managed to look back. 

He was pulled through the compound until they reached what looked like a shower room. There were bathtubs lined up against the walls, each with a canvas covers over them. Kane pushed Seth against one of the tiled walls and ordered him to remove his clothes. When Seth refused, he grabbed him by the arm and tossed him into one of the tubs like he was a ragdoll and he hit his head on the edge. While he was dazed, the water was turned on to as hot as it could get and the canvas cover pulled over and secured, leaving only his head exposed. 

“It’s too hot!” He cried out, trying to get himself free. “Kane! It’s too hot!”

“Tough!” 

And he was gone, leaving seth o deal with the burning pain of the scalding water. 

Hours later, when the water had turned from fire to ice and he was shivering in the tub, Roman entered the room with a tray of food. He looked down at him and his chattering teeth and sighed. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I-I-I don’t c-c-care.” he stammered. “I-It ha-d to be s-s-said. Th-at man is a m-m-monster.”

Roman pulled up a chair and placed the tray on his lap. “Well, that monster told me to come feed you. So here I am.”

“Can’t you j-just let m-me out?”

“Unless you want me to take your place, no.” was the disinterested answer as he scooped something he hoped was rice onto a spoon. He held it out to Seth, who took it obediently and tried not to gag at the taste of what was most definitely not rice. After a few more spoonfuls, roman seemed to grow pensive. “Why’d you go help Dean like that? The nurse could have handled it.”

Seth watched his face for a second, gauging how he should answer. The truth seemed the best route. “I s-s-saw what t-they did to h-him.”

“What do you mean ‘what they did to him’?”

“T-there’s a l-lab in the basement.” He answered, still watching Roman’s face for any reaction. “They a-are experimenting on p-patients for the g-g-govern-ment-t-t.”

Roman scoffed. “That's ridiculous. Why would they do that?”

“W-w-hy not?” he answered and that seemed to take him by surprise. “T-theres people here n-n-no one cares about. W-what does it m-matter if t-th-ey go missing?”

“People would notice if Ambrose went missing.” was his answer to that.

“Na-ame one.”

Roman opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to come up with an answer and a look of shame washed over his face. 

“T-t-that's what I-I thought.” 

“Look, I’m sorry.” Roman said and seemed to mean it. “It’s just hard to get past...certain things.”

“I-I-I know.”

Then he observed him curiously. “You’re planning something, aren't you?”

“I-I’m getting out of t-this h-h-ellhole and going h-home.” he answered. “A-and i’m g-getting Dean o-o-ut too. Y-you sho-uld come w-with us. I-I could use the hel-p-p-p”

“If we’re caught…”

“T-this i-i-isn't prison, Roman.” he snapped. “Patients h-h-ave the right to b-b-e treated f-f-airly.”

“In your future universe maybe.” 

“It’s s-s-imple human d-d-ecancy.”

Roman seemed to think about it, worrying his lip between his teeth. He didn’t say anymore, but took his tray and headed for the door. He paused there for a second and turned back to the shivering Seth in the tub before walking back over and turning on the hot water for a few seconds. 

“Th-ank you.”

“If I were to help,” Roman began, a determined look on his face. “What would I need to do?”

And that was the million dollar question.


	8. Chapter 8

Days.

It had been days since he last saw Dean and he wondered if they had taken him again while he was stuck in that fucking tub until his body was so waterlogged and cramped he could barely move. They didn't even give him dry clothes, just took him to his room for nighttime lockdown and left him to freeze. Some therapy.

But, again, that was days ago. And that was days to many if you asked Seth Rollins.

The routine of wake-up, work with Roman, and sleep was starting to get to him, especially without Dean around. Every night he looked toward his room, hoping to see that cocky smirk, but it didn't happen and the anxiety was killing him. What had happened to Dean Ambrose?

That is, until now. 

When he lined up, he half expected the space in front of Dean's door to be empty, after all it had been for a while now. But that night, there he was, standing under his own power, even whistling happily to himself like he hadn't been missing for days, like he wasn't a walking zombie the last time Seth even laid eyes on him. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like nothing had even happened. 

Seth watch him in shock as the nurse came down the hallway, like she had every night, and handed him his pill container, which he threw back and pretended to swallow. He didn't even look in seths direction when he walked into his room, slipping the pills out of his mouth. 

What was going on?

When she reached Seth, she had to clear her throat to get his attention. He did the same, taking the pill container and pretending to swallow only to slip them out of his mouth when the door closed with him in his room. But he was at the window, watching the direction of Dean's room like he might just burst free and make his presence known. It never happened, but with Dean back, he was sure as hell going to watch for Kane and his lackeys. It might not be tonight, but they'd be back. 

_They won't take him tonight_

He turned at the sound of her voice, startled but not afraid anymore. He hadn't seen Abagail since Dean disappeared either, like she was only connected to his presence. For all Seth knew, she might be. 

“He looks like nothing even happened to him.” He said. 

_He copes the best way he can. That's forgetting._

“So he doesn't remember?”

_He remembers, he chooses not to acknowledge._

“So if I ask him about it…”

_That would be unwise._

Right. PTSD. It could trigger an episode and that wouldn't be good for either of them. But what was Seth supposed to do? Sit back and wait for it to happen again? He couldn't stomach that, not again. “What do I do now?”

She pointed to under the bed. He blinked at her a few times, confused. When she pointed more ardently, he got the message that she wanted him to look under there. So he did, crawling under the bed frame which was so dirty and dusty he coughed as the grittiness stuck in his lungs. But in the corner he spotted what she wanted him to see, a hole in the brickwork just large enough to slip something in. Carefully, he reached his hand inside and rummaged around between the dirt and cobwebs until his fingers brushed against something. Paper? He pulled it free and climbed out from under the bed, but she was gone. 

Dusting himself off and sitting on the bed, he unfolded several pieces of paper in his hand and inspected them. Diary entries definitely written in female handwriting. 

_December 12th, 1945_  
_They admitted a man today, a handsome sort with reddish curls that I find myself wanting to run my fingers through. I'm not allowed to think like that, but I can't help but wonder about him. He doesn't say much, but there's a curiosity, an arrogance, in his eyes so blue I think the sky might be jealous._

Seth stared at the paper. Were these Abigail's? They had to be, why else would she point them out. That meant that this must have been her room. She had to be talking about Dean, and it would seem she had a little crush on him. Putting that aside for now, he continued reading:

_December 21st, 1945_  
_Dean says things will get better, that that's why we're here. I think he wants to make the memories stop. He says he used to fly planes! I wonder what that might be like. I've seen them, when they make me dream, but to soar through the sky, especially with Dean, would be magical. Could you imagine it? Looking out the window and flying with the birds? It sounds like a dream. A good dream, not the ones they want me to have._

_I heard him telling stories to that black haired man named Roman. I've never talked to him, but he seems so angry all the time, except when he's talking to Dean. I guess he has that effect on people, they trust him. They talk about the prison camps, the ones where they were asked a lot of questions over and over. They look sad when they talk about it. I've seen the camps in my dreams, I know how bad they are. It makes me want to hug him close, but I don't know if he sees me that way._

Dean was a prisoner of war. Now the PTSD made even more sense. 

_January 2nd, 1946_  
_Everything hurts so bad. They said it was normal, but I can't seem to keep things straight anymore. It's like all the things I see are blurry, unreal, like I'm still stuck in the dreams. I just want it all to stop, but they said I'm making progress. It doesn't feel like progress. It hurts._

_But Dean makes me feel better. He sits close to me and rubs my arm while I cry. I think he feels bad. It's okay though, because I like when he smiles at me. He makes me tingly in a good way._

_March 6th, 1946_  
_I don't understand what is happening. I saw Dean kissing Roman. Boys aren't supposed to kiss boys, right? Why would he do that? Maybe it was a mistake, but he seemed to like it. So I mustered all my courage and kissed him too! Maybe he'd like it just as much as he did with Roman! “No, Abby.” He said when he pushed me away. He said he was sorry, that he didn't want me like that._

_March 10th, 1946_  
_They took Dean this time, and he tried to fight them. If he hadn't hurt me, maybe I would have warned him about them. I regret it. I should have. But I am so mad at him! They will come for me too, I know they will. I wish they wouldn't._

_March 15th, 1946_  
_I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I'm so tired. I'm so tired. And Dean is gone…_

The last entry was barely legible, written in fast, angry strokes. It wasn't even dated, but it had to be right before she died. 

_Goodbye._


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to adjust the tags and rating for obvious reasons. I hope this isn't too terrible.

“You fucking lied to me!” 

He didn't really mean to confront Roman like that, but revelations of the previous night had brought feelings to the surface that had been bubbling for a while. Sure, Roman looked like he had no clue what Seth was talking about, and about as surprised as someone could be when accused of lying and not knowing why. That's ok, because Seth was about to clarify. 

“There was more to you and Dean than just a fight about Germany, wasn't there?”

Roman scoffed and continued mixing whatever he was planning on cooking this morning, essentially ignoring him. Seth knew it was risky poking at Roman, bringing up things he'd probably rather forget, especially if the whole reason he was here was because of anger in the first place, and even more so since he'd agreed to help him escape, but Roman needed to fess up. “I know he kissed you.”

Roman stopped mixing. “I don't know what your talking about.” It was tight, barely controlled.

“Yes you do.” He pushed. “We're you two a thing?”

Roman turned to look at him, amused. “A thing? Is that more of your future talk? Like -what did you call it? - Harry Potter?”

“Look, if you had feelings for him, I don't care…” A lie, maybe some jealousy. “But there was more to your relationship with Dean than just buddies working in the kitchen together. You discussed the war, being prisoners…”

Roman dropped the bowl to the floor and its contents scattered all over. He was on Seth in a flash, his hand tangled in his shirt, pushing him back until his lower back connected with the counter and he yelled at the sharp impact. “ _You_ have no clue what you're talking about!”

“So explain it to me.”

Romans eyes were darting back and forth, like he was trying to look in both Seth's eyes at once. “How'd you know he kissed me?”

“Does it matter?”

Roman growled his answer and Seth took that as a yes. He pulled the pieces of paper from their hiding spot under his shirt and held them up. Roman look at them like they might just jump up and bite him, but he snatched them out of Seth's hand and began reading. His eyes began getting wider and wider as he read through page after page. “Who wrote these?”

“Do you know a woman named Abigail?”

He shook his head. “No, I...wait. She used to follow Dean around like a little puppy.” 

“These were hers.” Said Seth carefully. “She's the faceless girl I've been seeing. She was the first experiment, and she died for it.”

Roman backed away from him until he could fall back into a chair, staring into his hands in shock, like Seth had just hit him over the head with a baseball bat. Seth waited patiently for him to speak again because he needed Roman to tell him. He didn't have to wait long. 

“For the record, I didn't like him like that. I don't like...men. Not like he wanted me too.” Roman said after a few beats. “He surprised me with a kiss one day, that was all. Dean was always someone I could talk to because he understood the horror of the German camps. We could talk about what was done to us for information, because we'd both been through it. I never felt angry when I discussed those things with him, which was unusual for me. Then, one day, he was different, quieter than normal. That was about the time she wrote about them taking him. We couldn't talk about the same things anymore...and he definitely never tried to kiss me again. In fact, he pushed me away if anything. It wasn't long after that he attacked me and everything changed.”

“He was recruited for the same experiments she was.” Said Seth. “You saw him the other day. Well, he's back and it's like nothing happened. She said soldiers work best, so this place is a fucking schmorgesborg. That means anyone could be next.”

Roman ran a hand down his face and breathed and uneasy breath. “If we get out, what's to stop them from just starting over with someone new?”

“You.”

Roman eyed him. “What?”

“When we're out, send those papers to the press.” Said Seth, knowing that little bit of information was enough to take down this entire organization. “Do it anonymously if it makes you feel better. But just get the word out.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I'm going home.”

Roman let that sink in, just sort of watching Seth. Then, “You should go find Dean and talk to him.”

“But what about…”

He held up a hand. “I can handle it here and keep Kane off your back for a while.” He said and smiled at Seth. Then nodded toward the door. But before Seth left, Roman called after him. “I can tell you like him...like he wanted me to like him.”

“You know, in my time, I expect that kind of acceptance.” He said. “Not here.”

Roman smiled warmly. “Love is love, Seth.”

Seth smiled back and offered him his thanks before going to find Dean. 

He wasn't exactly easy to find when you actually wanted to. It would seem that he preferred to sneak up on an unsuspecting Seth rather than just let him find him like a normal human being. And that's exactly what he did when Seth ducked into a stairwell to avoid being seen by one of Kane's lackeys. 

“You come here to hide too?”

“Jesus!” Seth jumped at his voice and turned to find him sitting casually on the stairs with an easy grin, like it was normal to just hang out in empty stairwells. 

Dean chuckled. “Nope, just lil’ ol’ Dean.”

“What are you doing hiding here?” Seth asked after his heart slowed enough to breathe properly again. 

He shrugged, easy as anything. “Hiding. No one uses these stairs. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.” He answered and took a seat next to Dean on the steps. “What are you hiding from?”

Another easy shrug, but there was a tightness to his features. That easy smile seemed to falter fever so slightly, his shoulders tensed for the briefest of seconds, and as quickly as it was there that facade was back right along with the cool smile. “Oh you know, this and that.”

Vague. 

“Why were you looking for me?”

Seth wasn't exactly sure how to approach that question. Abigail told him it was unwise to bring up the experiments, but Dean wasn't acting like someone who had just had his brains scrambled and put back together. Maybe it _was_ better to just ask him? Rip it off like a bandaid? 

“I...I know what they've been doing to you, Dean.” He said quickly, like maybe it would soften the blow. He wasn't sure it worked. That easy smile was gone, replaced with an unreadable expression Seth couldn't place. “I want to help you.”

Dean wasn't looking at him now, his eyes were wide and fixed firmly to a spot on the wall. He was taking large breaths and Seth wondered if he was about to have an episode like he had with Roman. He even braced for the explosion, but it never came. In fact, the laugh that started erupting from him threw Seth off. “So you did talk to me at breakfast that morning. I thought I dreamt you. And then Kane...he take you to the baths?”

“Yeah, for hours.” Seth answered. “You looked like they put your brain in a blender, man.”

Dean was smiling at him sadly before he spoke again. “It's always random, you know. I can never anticipate it. They've been coming more frequently though...I don't know why.”

“The Cold War.”

“The what?”

“My knowledge of history is pretty limited, I didn't exactly pay attention in class, but I know things between America and Russia start getting pretty heated in the 1950’s. They were asking you about the Russian threat.” 

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “You saw? How'd you know where to find me?” 

Seth swallowed, not really sure how to answer that. _The girl with no face, the one with the crush on you, she told me_ is what he wanted to say. Yet he only told Dean her name. “Abigail.” 

Dean's eyes changed again, sad suddenly. “Abigail.” He repeated and sniffed back something. “That's impossible. Abigail is dead.”

“I know.” Said Seth. “She's the one who brought me here.”

Dean snorted. “Why?” 

Seth hesitated to answer. But, ultimately, what did it matter? “Because in my time, you and I are...together.”

“Together?” He asked, confused. “Wouldn't I be pushing 90 years old?”

“No, not like _you_ you, but a version of you, the same age you are now I think.” he wasn't sure that made any sense and, based on the way dean was looking at him, it didn't. “She brought me here because I love you…”

“But not _me_ me?” he asked and Seth felt bad for nodding because Dean looked hurt suddenly. But he sure could recover quickly. “Hey, at least I can pretend.”

The look Dean was giving him made Seth's mind suddenly go elsewhere because it was so incredibly Dean; that slight cock of the head, a crooked smirk, a twinkle in those blue eyes that always sent shivers down Seth's spine. But he wasn't making a move, he was just sort of watching Seth and waiting. Maybe he was waiting for Seth to make the first move. 

Not really sure what came over him, he leaned in and just hovered his lips over Dean's, not touching, just testing the waters. Dean wasn't moving, just watching his face as he inched closer to finally brush their lips together. A hand running gently through his hair spurred him on and he pressed them together harder. Dean was kissing back in earnest now, like he'd never been kissed before, and Seth wondered if that were true, at least by someone who had kissed him first. 

It was Dean who pulled away, looking Seth's face over like he was waiting for the catch. “Why'd you do that? We could get in a lot of trouble for that.”

Seth chuckled. “Since when do you care about getting in trouble?”

“Fair enough.” He answered before his lips were attacking Seth's again, far more forceful than before and pushing him back against the stairs to straddle his waist. Hands ghosted over his chest and down to the hem where they slipped under and raked his nails down Seth's sides. He hissed and Dean immediately apologized. “I'm sorry.”

“No, keep going!” Seth commanded, leaning up to capture his mouth again, but Dean pulled away, despite the erection Seth could see through his scrubs. He looked...Ashamed? “What's the matter?”

“Look, I've...never actually gotten this far.” He admitted. “Especially not with a man.”

“You're a virgin?”

“No!” He snapped, defensive, but that only lasted a few seconds before his shoulders slouched. “I tried it with a girl once, but couldn't...you know...”

“So you've never done it?”

Dean shook his head and smirked. “Not for lack of trying. It's not exactly something that people take to kindly to.”

“We don't have to…”

Dean interrupted him, “No! I want to! God how I want to…” a beat. “Please. At least with you, I can pretend i’m your Dean.”

“Dean, I-” he was cut off when dean kissed him again, one so full of want and need that Seth was powerless to resist. He let him dictate the pace, slow and sloppy, but so very Dean. A hand again trailed down his chest and slipped into the band of his scrubs where nimble fingers wrapped around his hardening dick and he gasped, pushing dean back slightly. “Before we do this, we have some things to discuss.”

Dean was on him again, now stroking him and kissing at his neck when he answered with a hum. Seth was buzzing. For someone who had never done this, the hand on his cock was working magic on him with just enough pressure and just enough of a twist of his wrist to send Seth perilously close to losing it. 

“Are you a pitcher or a catcher?” He asked and moaned when Dean bit down on his shoulder. 

But he stopped and was now looking down at Seth confused. “I played shortstop for my high school team. I don't see what that has to do with this?”

Seth laughed, loudly. “No, that's not what I mean. Do you want me in you or do you want to go in me?”

“Oh. I don't know. Which do you prefer?”

“I can do either. My Dean usually prefers to top.”

“Top?”

“Ok, you know what, executive decision.” He said and maneuvered them so Dean was now under him. “Just follow my lead and if anything makes you uncomfortable, let me know and I'll stop. Okay?”

Dean nodded and relaxed as Seth pushed him back slightly against the steps. He untied his scrubs and tugged them down, instructing Dean to lift his ass so he could pull them over his ass. Now completely exposed to him, Seth gave the very red faced Dean a squeeze on the thigh to reassure him before taking his already hard and leaking cock into his mouth. Dean grunted and bucked up involuntarily, which Seth was able to predict before he gagged him. 

He went slow, knowing that the first time can be overwhelming and wanting to give Dean a pleasant experience because god only knew if he'd get the chance ever again. He dropped down slowly, sucking just enough for Dean to feel it, but primarily concentrating on getting his dick as wet as he could. It wasn't like they had any lube to use, so spit would have to do. 

Deans hands in his hair and those whimpers he was letting out were definitely do it for Seth. He could feel his already hard cock twitch with every tug at his scalp or groan he could draw out. The way he was squirming meant dean was very, _very_ into this. He pulled himself off dean long enough to suck on two of his finger and reach behind himself to start opening himself up. It was only a moment, but the look on Dean's face, that mix of shock and awe, made sent groan. Smirking, he again got his mouth on Dean but he didn't want him to go off just yet. Satisfied he was spit slick enough, he pulled off with a wet _pop_ and stood to get his own pants off before straddling Dean's lap. 

“You ready?” He asked, very concerned now that this was going to be over pretty quickly if the blissed out look in Dean's eyes was any indication. He waited for the nod and sank himself down on Dean's cock, both of them moaning out together. “How you doing, Dean?” 

“Jesus fuck!” Was the only answer he got. 

That was good enough for him so he braced himself on the step behind Dean and began moving. He still fit just right inside of Seth, still hitting that spot when he dragged the head of Dean's dick over his prostate, and oh god did it feel good. Deans grunts and whimpers and _oh fuck_ ’s and _more_ ’s were getting him dangerously close to the edge and he closed his eyes against the full feeling Dean was giving him. Needless to say, Dean's hand wrapping around his cock was a surprise, and he let go before he wanted to, spilling himself into Dean's hand. That must have been enough because dean himself stiffened and shot wet and sticky into Seth. 

“That was worth the wait.” Dean panted after a moment. 

Seth smiled at him and leaned down to kiss him again, a much softer press of lips to lips than before. He tugged himself off and found his scrubs before pulling them back on. Dean watched him, breathless.

“You should get dressed.” 

Dean laughed and pulled up his own pants, tying them secure around his waist. He stood up off the stairs and stepped up to Seth, eyes darting to his own eyes and down to his lips, and back. He put both hands on the side of Seth's face and gently rubbed his thumb over his cheek. He kissed him gently, quick, like he wasn't done looking at him. “I've seen you, you know.” He said after a beat. “When they take me. I see you with longer hair and a beard, not this fuzz you call facial hair. You like to play - what are they called? - video games? You smile a lot.”

“I'll get you out of here, Dean.” He whispered. “I promise.”


	10. Chapter 10

Seth was reeling. His mind was going in every direction imaginable because he wasn’t exactly sure he’d fucked up. Had he just cheated on Dean...with Dean? He’d watched those stupid sci-fi shows, he knew a paradox when he saw one, but what exactly did this mean? Would he wake up from this nightmare and not remember it? Would it even matter? Sure, he felt guilty, felt guilty all day, felt even guiltier when he was alone in his room for nighttime lockdown, when Dean gave him a cheeky smirk from his room and his face burned hot at that look. 

But he wouldn’t change what he’d done. That's the fucked up part. He had given this Dean something he’d never had, something he’d wanted and always been denied thanks to a bullshit mindset of this time. At least now, if this all went gloriously south, Dean would have that experience. 

_Why did you do that?_

The question was simple enough, but followed by an icy chill that had Seth sitting up in bed. Abigail, even without the benefit of seeing her face, wasn't happy. He could feel it in the shiver that ran up his spine, in the goosebumps that prickled the skin on the back of his neck, in the heavy stillness that now filled the room. He supposed this was pretty par for the course when it came to angry spirits, if those stupid paranormal shows that his Dean watched were true. Abigail was jealous. 

_I didn't ask you to do that._

“He needed it.” He answered, standing his ground even as the chill in the room got even colder. “Abigail, do you understand that Dean is different?”

_He is perfect._

“You have a crush, I understand that, but you are dead.”

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say to a ghost, maybe not, but he could almost see the frown form on her empty face. He felt bad for saying it, but she should realize that Dean couldn't be hers now just like he couldn't when she was alive. He wanted to apologize, but never got the chance when she disappeared right in front of him. 

The sound of his door unlocking drew his attention anyway. It was pretty late still, morning not even remotely close, so no one should be here to let him out.

Unless…

He was on his feet as soon as he saw Kane's form fill the doorway flanked by the other two men who had taken Dean. There was a delighted smirk on his face, and that horrifying look sent a shiver down Seth's spine. He knew why they were here.

“No, please!” He tried to beg, holding out his arms like that might stop the monster of a man from coming any closer. “Not me!”

“Come quietly, Rollins. Don't make this harder on yourself.” Kane was advancing on him with the other two men spreading out to corner Seth against the wall. He could try and fight them, try and get past them to the open door, but they were so large that the wall of human flesh would be damn near impossible to get by without one of their gigantic arms getting him. 

That didn't mean he wasn't going to try.

He squared his shoulders and barreled into Kane as hard as he could. It must have been surprise that sent the man off his feet, and Seth let out a triumphant little yelp when he got his own feet under him. He didn't make it more that three steps before one of the others got a tree trunk of an arm hooked around his waist, lifting him off his feet like he were nothing but a rag doll. “Let go! Fuck! Get offa me!”

The other grabbed at his legs and immobilized him as best they could with Seth squirming to get free. Kane was shouting instructions to get him on the gurney and strapped in, and though it took some doing, they managed to do just that, strapping his arms and legs to the bed so tight his fingers and toes were going numb. But still he fought, pulling and straining against the leather at his wrists and ankles. “You can't do this!”

“Shut up, Rollins!” Kane growled and, much like he had done with Dean, slapped Seth so hard he tasted blood in his mouth. In his daze, the orderlies were able to get the last of the straps around his legs and chest, pinning him to the bed. 

Kane gave the order to go and Seths stomach dropped as the realization of what was about to happen hit him like a brick. They were going to do to him exactly what they had done to Dean. They were about to kill him over and over until his brain turned to mush. 

“Why?! Why are you doing this to me!?” 

Kane gave a little smirk, “Because you've been nothing but trouble since you got here. I know you followed us with Dean, though I can't think for the life of me how you got out of your room. Dr. Wyatt wanted a new subject, and you drew the short straw.”

Angry now, Seth tugged at the restraints. “FUCK YOU! _Fuck you_ , Kane!”

“Keep spewing obscenities at me, Rollins.” Kane laughed, dismissive. “It's really helping your case.”

They traveled through those ominous double doors into the dark hallway and Seths anxiety grew to almost unbearable levels. It didn't matter what he said, how he fought, begging, pleading, none of it; this was going to happen whether he liked it or not. 

Dr. Wyatts operating room looked so much different without all the pomp and circumstance that came along with demonstrating to the government officials. It was far darker, and not because of lack of light, but because of the air that seemed to fill the room. The walls seemed grimiest, the instruments more menacing, and the man watching them wheel Seth into place more giddy than he should be, damn near jumping for joy. 

“Another subject to play with!” He squealed, clapping his hands together happily and leaning over Seth to observe every twitch of muscle on his face. “Tell me your story, child! I'm eager to learn!”

Seth answered him by spitting in his face and smiling triumphantly when he got him directly in the eye. That only earned him another hard slap from Kane. The doctor waved the large man off and wiped his face with a handkerchief. “You have some fight in you. That's good. Hold on to that and you will probably survive the procedure.”

“Go to hell!” 

“Mr. Rollins, is it? Tell me of the hell you've seen?” Wyatt asked, genuinely curious. “Coming face to face with the horrors of war makes you uniquely qualified for these tests.”

“I've never been in a war!” 

Wyatt looked confused for a moment then picked up a folder and flipped through a few pages. “Rollins, Seth. Corporal, United States Army. Served in the pacific theater until 1945. Says here you disappeared for several months in 1944 after a failed recon mission. Tell me, where did you go?”

“That's not me!” He yelled. “I was born in 1986 in Davenport, Iowa! Is that what you picked Dean? Because he was a POW?”

Wyatts grin twisted into something menacing. “Interesting.” 

“Please, let me go.” 

Rather than say anything else, he motioned for Kane to strap Seth in tighter, just like he had for Dean, while he filled a syringe with a sickly green liquid. 

“No!” He screamed over and over again until the bite guard was shoved between his teeth, almost making him gag at the rubber taste lying on his tongue. 

“Don't worry, child. This won't hurt a bit.”

The needle broke the skin of his forearm and he jumped at the sudden coldness that was now traveling through his veins. It was a dull ache at first, gradually increasing to a pain the likes of which Seth had never felt. It was like every synapse and nerve ending was firing all over his body, under his skin, and behind his eyes. Every pore, every strand of hair, every tiny twitch hurt like he were on fire. He knew he was screaming behind the bite guard and he didn't care. His heart was beating so fast that he honestly thought it might burst out of his chest.

Then...nothing. 

He was vaguely aware of how his heart stopped beating, how air was no longer filling his lungs, how he couldn't feel anything anymore. He'd heard the brain stayed alive for several minutes after death is declared, but he didn't believe it until now. He knew he was dead, but could do nothing because he was nothing but meat on a slab until the nerve endings stopped firing in his brain. 

He'd expected a white light, maybe a feeling of warmth, maybe an image of Dean smiling at him in that way that made his heart flutter. But no, nothing but darkness and an emptiness as his consciousness began to fade. 

The shock to his temples was startling and his body came back to life, his heart, his lungs, everything was working again but he couldn't do much more than strain against the restraints as electricity surged through every muscle. He was still nothing but a consciousness, aware but unmoving; like a dream. 

“Who are you?”

The question was distant, like an echo in an empty room, and he was compelled to answer. “Seeeeth Rollinnnnns.”

“Where are you from?”

Again he answered the voice. “Ioooooowa.”

“When were you born?”

“1986.”

The person asking the question sounded confused. “Who is the current president?”

Again he answered. 

There was another question asked, but he couldn't wrap his head around it as that feeling of nothing swept over him again. His heart slowed and his lungs emptied and he was again nothing but some flashing neurons in a dying brain.

Then the shocks and the questions started again. 

“What year is it?”

“2016.”

“Is America at war in 2016?”

“Yeeeesss.”

“Germans?”

“Noooo.”

And again, that nothingness took over. 

He didn't know how long this went on, how many questions he may have answered, how many times his heart stopped beating in his chest. All he knew was this was the worst form of torture he could imagine. 

A constant state of dying.


	11. Chapter 11

Everything was fuzzy, like background noise he couldn't quite concentrate on, couldn't quite pinpoint. He was conscious, aware he was breathing, but not able to really make heads or tails of reality. He was so tired, so incredibly drained of energy that just sitting and staring was exhausting. His head hurt, his brain throbbing behind his eyes like a jackhammer, but he couldn't react to it because he couldn't even lift his head if he wanted to. He was vaguely aware of someone sitting next to him, a woman if the smell of perfume was any indication, and he wondered somewhere in his scrambled mind if he was in the cafeteria waiting to be fed like a baby. 

At this point, he didn't care. All he could really do was stare at his hands and pray that this feeling, this emptiness and pain, would just go away, that _he_ would just disappear into the nothingness that he felt.

“What's the matter with him?” He heard breakthrough the static. One voice, the one voice he would recognize over everything else...Dean. 

The woman at his side signed, a huffed breath of annoyance. “Ambrose, you know that we can’t discuss that.”

He felt Dean crouch down next to him and turn his head gently so Seth was looking at concerned blue eyes. He couldn't really focus on anything but those blue eyes and a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. But concern morphed to anger and Dean was on his feet. “Kane!”

Heavy footsteps made their way towards him and he felt his body tense up. Kane. “What, Ambrose?”

“What did you do?” Dean was seething, Seth could hear it in his voice even if he couldn't look up to stop him. 

“Excuse me?”

The sound of shoving. “You _fucker_! Look what you did to him!”

He wanted to stop him, wanted to reach out and pull Dean back before he pushed Kane too far, but he couldn't. It was like everything was happening in his periphery, just out of his line of sight. 

“Hey, Dean, calm down.” a new voice, Roman, said quickly and must have pushed Dean back, even if he was shoved off immediately. 

“Don’t touch me, Reigns!” Dean damn near screamed. “Look what that _monster_ did!”

Roman was again on him and Dean pushed him back. But he was cool and collected when he spoke to Dean again. “Take a breath and calm down.” then much quieter. “This won't end well if you keep this up.”

Dean, apparently, wasn't listening. “Fuck you, Kane! I know what you did! I know!”

“Nurse, would you please get Mr. Rollins to the infirmary.” He heard Kane instruct through gritted teeth as Dean continued to yell and scream at him. His scene was beginning to excite the other patients, screaming and laughing right along with him without really knowing why. This would escalate quickly if it continued. “Mr. Ambrose needs to be taught a lesson in manners.”

A groan escaped Seth's lips that could have been a garbled “No”, but no one was listening to him. Rushed footsteps reached Dean just as the nurse was wheeling Seth away from him, the sounds of a struggle followed, Dean carrying on, Roman trying to calm him down, and Seth could do nothing to help. 

“Get off me!” He heard Dean yell. “Bring him back here! Fuck you!”

“Get the restraints on him!” Kane cried over the commotion. 

Then he was too far away to make out the yells anymore. All he could do was hope they wouldn't hurt Dean too badly. 

\---

How long had he been out of it? He registered coming in and out of conscious thought, every so often able to move an arm or his head. Slowly, day by day, he gathered more strength, more aware of himself and his surroundings than he had been. But the nightmares were still there. Wyatts twisted grin, Kane, the helplessness, the pain, the _nothing_ that he now knew awaited everyone, it was all still there and he sat bolt upright when that last one hit. 

Strong hands were on his shoulders, pressing him still, and for a second he thought they might be Kane's, which only added to his panic. But it wasn't Kane, the soft but strong voice of Roman filled the space and he felt himself calm ever so slightly. “You're ok. Just breathe.”

It was the first time since he was taken that he was able to truly think clearly and without that constant static in his brain. Though he was still exhausted, he was able to move now, see, feel. It was a relief to know that he wasn't brain dead after what they put him through. 

“Dean?” His voice was hoarse from disuse, tired and weak. 

Roman held a glass of water to his lips and Seth drank it greedily. “He's...well, Dean. So I'm sure he'll be fine.” 

“What happened?”

Roman sat the glass down and watched Seth's face for a long few seconds, like he was trying to figure out what he should say or ask. “I think I should be asking you that question.”

He swallowed hard at the memory, not really wanting to talk about what they did. But Roman deserved to know, especially if he was willing to help them escape. “They, uh, took me to the basement lab and injected me with...something.” He paused, shuddering at remembering the pain and sudden nothingness that followed. “It stopped my heart and lungs, then before my brain died they shocked me. I don't remember much after that except dying...over and over.”

“Is that what they did to Dean?” Roman asked, a surprising touch of concern in his gruff voice. When Seth nodded, that concern turned to regret. “All this time I've been so angry with him and this is what they've been doing?”

“Don't beat yourself up about it.” Seth offered. “You didn't know.”

“Maybe I should have. Why did they take him and not me?”

“You aren't someone who needs to be controlled.” Seth said with a shrug. “You aren't a problem.”

“Neither are you.”

“Apparently, I am.”

Again Seth swallowed and stared at his hands. “What happened to Dean?” 

Roman sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He saw how you were and started yelling at Kane. Things got violent and they restrained him. Last I heard, he was dragged off to solitary confinement. That was almost a week ago.” 

“We have to get him!” Seth tried to pull himself from the bed only to be pushed back down by Roman. 

“You're in no shape to go anywhere.”

Reluctantly, he laid back and tried to will the wave of nausea away. “What are we gonna do?”

“ _You're_ gonna lay here until they release you. I'm going to see if I can find Dean. Then, were getting the fuck out of here.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter splits perspectives. The first half is Roman, the second switches back to Seth.

What was he doing? He really shouldn't be involved in this, at all, but here he was, stalking down the Solitary Confinement wing with a tray of food for Dean. But Roman had promised Seth he would get him, and that's what he was going to do. Despite their differences and the problems they had in the past, he couldn't stand idly by and watch whatever was happening, happen. So he’d help, do what he could, and that meant setting aside their past and just concentrating on getting them out.

It was easy to get through. Most of those scheduled for solitary confinement had to be fed three times daily and that task was usually given to the kitchen staff. Usually Roman would pass it off to one of the underlings that worked with him but today he personally saw to the distribution, handing out trays and helping feed those stuck in straight jackets.

He hated this area of the hospital, having only been sent here once for getting overly angry with an orderly when he first arrived, and he tried to avoid it as much as he could. He supposed, the point wasn't to like it, it was a punishment - or a therapy depending on how you looked at it. The rooms were about the size of the regular rooms in the hospital, but devoid of any furniture or windows; they didn't turn off the lights, which made sleeping difficult; the walls were padded with white, uncomfortable material meant to protect the patients that decided to slam themselves into them; and most were kept in the straight jacket for their entire stay. He hadn’t really thought much of it before, it was just how things were done, until Seth and his strange future ideas came along and said that patients have rights. They were supposed to be here to get better, but it seemed more like a prison than a hospital.

The orderly meant to be watching the patients here was sitting at the small desk when roman approached with the cart of trays. He was too busy listening to some baseball game on the radio to really pay attention to Roman as he passed him. He followed the single hallway to the room number written on Dean's tray and slid open the small viewing slot to see if he could see him. He was there, huddled in a corner with his back to the door, the straight jacket they had wrapped him in looked to tight to be comfortable and he again felt bad for his former friend. He couldn't see his face, but he knew he'd have at least taken a few blows from Kane and his men before they dumped him here.

“Dean?” Roman called into the slot but didn't even get a twitch as a response. Maybe he hadn't heard him and he tried again, louder this time. Still nothing, not even an acknowledgement. They must have him drugged.

Roman set the tray down and calmly walked to the orderlies desk to ask him to please open the door. Begrudgingly he did, muttering the entire time about how his team was playing like shit and would probably lose this game. Roman just gave him noncommittal noises in agreement, just hoping to get the door open and for the orderly to go. It seemed like he might stick around, but Roman promised to be brief and would close the door behind him. With a shrug, the orderly moved off back to his game and Roman waited until he could hear his footsteps getting fainter before he ran to Dean's side.

“Dean.” He said, gently touching the other man's back. He still wouldn't look at him and did flinch further into the corner away from Roman. “Dean, I know we've had our differences, but I’m here to help you.”

Still nothing. He was expecting maybe a _Fuck you, Reigns_ , but got nothing but silence. Something wasn't right. This time he gently took a hold of Dean’s shoulder and physically turned him to face him.

Roman gasped and nearly fell back onto his ass when he finally got a good look at the man.

Though the person looking at him could pass for Dean Ambrose from a distance, with the same build and mop of shaggy auburn curls, the person looking at him with drugged out eyes was 100% _NOT_ Dean.

Roman shot to his feet and backed away towards the door. He scrubbed a hand down his face as he realized what probably happened. They had taken him. They had taken him just like Seth. son of a bitch, he could be dead by now and no one would have noticed until it was too late. How could he have been so blind to what was happening under his nose? How could he just abandon Dean like that, even after everything he’d done? It wasn’t like he could help it. It was like Seth said, that weird disorder he’d never heard of, PT something.

He apologized to the Dean that wasn't Dean and tried his best to calmly leave the room, even if he could feel the panic begin to rise in his chest. When he turned, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Standing in the doorway was a young woman in hospital scrubs, but just like Seth had been trying to tell him, she had no face. She was just looking at him, or at least that's how it seemed. To call her presence unnerving was an understatement. 

_Roman Reigns._

“Abigail?” he whispered, afraid to let his voice get any louder than that and unsure why.

_Help them._

“Who?”

_All of them._

\--- 

The infirmary wasn’t so bad. It was surprisingly more of what Seth would expect from a hospital such as this. Though the nurse's bedside manner could use a tune-up, they were caring and tended to the few patients they had with respect. The one nurse he’d managed to talk to for more than five minutes, a sweet woman named Bayley, said that most of the women who worked here were part of the military when the war hit, many tending to soldiers in hospitals all over the world. Bayley herself said she had been stationed on a naval base in Scotland. What little time she was able to spend talking to him before being called away to other duties gave him a bit of hope for the future, even if he knew for certain things would get worse for places like this until many closed for good. But, Bayley had told him he would be getting out of the infirmary soon, so there was that.

He wondered how Roman was fairing with Dean and smiled a little to himself at the choice words he was sure they were throwing at each other. In his time, Roman and Dean would do absolutely anything for each other, to include spending a night in jail as was the case when Dean started that bar fight over some jerk talking on his cell phone next to him obnoxiously loudly during the Flyers playoff game. Punches were thrown, property was damaged, and roman was too drunk to run when the cops showed up. So, he got pinched and thrown in the drunk tank until morning, never once giving up who had really started that fight. But that was then, the future Dean and Roman, this was now.

Speaking of Roman, he came walking into the infirmary looking like he had just seen a ghost. “What happened?”

“We have to go.” he answered and threw back the covers of the hospital bed Seth was lying on before pulling him to his feet and steadying him when a wave of residual nausea hit him. He threw his scrubs at him and waited, nervously tapping his foot while Seth dressed.

“Roman, what is going on?”

“I saw her.” he whispered back at him.

Seth froze. “Abigail?”

“No, the fucking first lady!”

“What did she say?”

Roman looked away. “To help them.”

 “Who?”

 His eyes snapped back to Seth’s. “Everyone!”

 Seth ran his hands through his hair. On one hand he was thankful someone else had seen her, that was at least some validation that he wasn’t _completely_ crazy. On the other, Roman was obviously shaken and panicking. A panicking Roman made Seth anxious. He also didn’t see Dean anywhere in sight. “Where’s Dean?”

  
“I went to solitary to find him.” Roman began, grabbing Seth by the arm and pulling him behind him and out of the Infirmary before any of the nurses saw them leave. His voice was frantic, rushed and frenzied, when he recounted the story to Seth. “It wasn’t him.”

“What do you mean?”

“What part of that was confusing?” Roman snapped. “It wasn’t him. It was someone who looked like him, but was definitely not Dean Ambrose. They took him again. We need to get to that lab.”

Seth was nodding, understanding what Roman wanted.

“Follow Me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left!

He'd only done this twice, and once was backwards while strapped to a gurney kicking and screaming. So, to say it was a little tough to find the hallway that lead to the basement lab, was a pretty accurate statement.

“Don't you know where you're going?” Roman asked, a bit frantic and more than a little annoyed. 

Seth eyed him, “I was a bit preoccupied last time, okay!”

He had a general idea of where to go, hoping he'd stumble on the door sooner rather than later because god only knew what was happening to Dean while they searched.

_You're going the right way!_ The voice echoed down the empty hallway and both men stopped moving for a second. 

“Abigail.” Seth said with a smile and continued walking, Roman having to jog slightly to catch up. 

“Doesn't that bother you?” He asked when he did.

“Not anymore.” Seth answered and felt an invisible hand tug him into a room, a janitor's closet if the broom, mops, and buckets were any indication. On instinct, he grabbed Roman and pulled him in too. The door closed quietly just as the sound of heavy, rushed footsteps could be heard, stopping just outside the closet. 

“They couldn't have gotten far.” Kane said to someone on the other side of the door. 

“You find them!” It was Dr. McMahon, and he did not sound happy. “I should have known Reigns would throw his lot in with those two miscreants!”

“Miscreants?” Seth whispered, slightly offended, and Roman shot him a warning look in the dim light of the closet. 

“When they're found, you put Reigns in the program too!” The Doctor added and must have stormed off. 

They could hear Kane sigh angrily and walk off in the opposite direction. 

“They're going to do to you what they did to me and Dean.” Seth breathed, nervous. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy, let alone one of the only good people in this hellhole. 

“We gotta get Dean and go.” Roman whispered to him, frantic and urgent. He peeked his head out of the closet and it was in that moment that Seth realized the military background Roman had. He was quiet, collected, sticking close to the wall and pushing Seth back as well as they moved out of the closet and continued down the hall. 

_Turn left._ Abigail's voice echoed at them and they listened, sneaking through a set of double doors and into that same back hallway he'd been taken down before. 

They followed the path until they reached the doors to Wyatt's sick lab. Seth peered in through the window and cursed under his breath. Dean was there alright, strapped to the gurney, but he was alone - Thank god for small favors - he also wasn't moving. For a heart wrenching second, he thought Dean may be gone. That is, until he lifted his head when Roman knocked over a beaker precariously planted on a desk and it shattered to the cement floor. 

“Fuck!” He spat quietly and they both ducked down, waiting for someone to pop out at the sound. When nothing happened, Roman slipped through the door followed by Seth, who immediately made a beeline for Dean. 

Dean breathed a deep sigh relief at the sight of them. “Oh thank god!”

Seths first thought was to get Dean free. He started at his wrist, bound with the leather restraint. “Are you okay?” 

“For now.” He said, watching Seth's shaky fingers try to undo the buckle on the strap. “Wyatt has done nothing but talk nonsense for the last two days, I think he's out of his serum. He might be making more. Hurry up and get me out of here”

“You aren't going anywhere!”

Seth froze, hands stilling at what they were doing, his stomach dropping. When he turned, he found Kane with a giant hand wrapped around Roman's throat with the Samoan clawing at it to get him to let up pressure on his windpipe. He had something in his hand, pressed precariously against Roman's jugular, a syringe. It looked empty, but air in the veins was just as deadly as cyanide. 

Dean was snarling from the gurney. “Kane! You son of a bitch!”

“Shut up, Ambrose!” Kane growled, tightening his grip on Roman's throat. Then he looked at Seth. “Back away, Rollins.”

Seth complied, slowly taking a few wary steps back. Dean tugged and pulled on the straps holding him still, growling and snarling at the large man, who easily ignored him. 

“Behind you are a set of handcuffs.” Kane said and nodded to a tray behind Seth. He could see where this was going. “handcuff yourself to the pipe against the wall.”

“Seth, no!” Dean yelled at him. “Run!”

Seth didn't run. Why would he? Getting Dean out was his ultimate goal and if he ran he'd be right at square one. So he picked the cuffs off the tray and slipped one over his wrist and the other around the pipe, then glared at Kane with all the hate he could muster. 

“Good.” Kane said, then turned his attention to Roman still fighting in his arms. “Now, as for you…”

He pushed Roman forward to the floor and the Samoan gasped and coughed for the breath he'd been denied. A sharp kick to the ribs forced him onto his back and a foot on his chest kept him there. 

“I thought you were better than this, Reigns.” Kane sighed, almost sounding disappointed. “But look at you now, aligning yourself with _them_. It's sad, really.”

“Let him go!” Dean yelled from the table he was strapped to.

“You're in no position to make demands, lunatic.” Kane spat at him harshly, an angry flash in his eye. “Wyatt should be back soon, I know he's got something special cooked up for you. Something new.” 

That shut Dean up real fast. In fact, he not only shut up, he shut down, eyes like dinner plates and mouth stuttering the word “no” over and over. 

“Dean! Don't you freak out on me!” Seth yelled at him, tugging on the cuff around his wrist. But it was too late, Dean was panicking. His breaths were coming in deep lungfuls, pupils blown and body shaking. “Goddammit, Dean!”

Kane turned back to Roman and sneered. “Guess he's got something for all three of you, now.” 

He lifted his foot and slammed it back down into Roman's chest, driving the air from his lungs in a forceful huff of breath. While he lay coughing and wheezing on the floor, Kane pushed over another gurney and lifted Reigns like he was nothing, dropping him onto the table and quickly strapping him down just like Dean. When he was able to regain some of his mental facilities, he began tugging at the restraints, snarling and yelling, far harsher than Seth had ever seen him. Roman Reigns was seeing red, livid and damn near foaming at the mouth when Kane stepped away from him with a satisfied little smirk on his stupid face. Then, he walked away, presumably to find Wyatt and apparently confident the three of them weren't going anywhere. 

With Dean a panicking mess and Roman seeing nothing but white hot anger, it was going to be up to Seth to get them all free. Good thing _his_ Dean had shown him a thing or two about getting out of handcuffs. He reached out for the tray in front of him, just barely out of reach when he stretched out his long limbs for it, fingertips brushing the steel handle. “Fuck!” 

He tried again, this time the tray tipped toward him a little and he was able to get his hand on it and pull it close. Using a thin scalpel, he shimmed the blade between the ratchets holding the cuff around his wrist secure and it easily slid open. 

“Amateurs.” He mumbled to himself and ran to Roman, scalpel still in hand. He could easily cut the straps holding him, but the way he was snarling and growling and tugging meant it probably wasn't the best of ideas. So, he went to Dean instead. 

“Dean, hey, look at me!” He instructed, taking the panicking man's face in his hands and trying desperately to calm him down. 

But Dean was mumbling to himself, body stiff with eyes unseeing, and Seth couldn't tell if it was nonsense or a flashback. “Too many...can’t...too many...under fire...no more...no more...dreams...can't hold the...fire...we're going down.”

“Dean, calm down.” Seth tried again, rubbing soothing fingers over his temples. Nothing seemed to work until he finally pressed his lips to Dean's and he froze, clamming up before relaxing into it finally. 

When Seth pulled back, Dean was looking at him with confused eyes searching his face. “Seth?”

“Oh good, that worked.” Seth breathed.

When Dean seemed to realize the situation they were still in, he looked over at Roman still screaming and tugging, and clearly out of his mind with anger. “What the fuck!?”

“Yeah.” Seth said quickly and started cutting Dean loose with the scalpel. “Any idea how to deal with _that_?”

“Just get me loose.” He answered. When Seth did, Dean hopped off the table and was immediately at Roman's side. He looked at Seth and took a deep breath. “He's going to hate me.” He said with a shrug and slapped Roman, HARD. 

The man on the table froze, eyes wide in shock. When he looked at a smiling Dean, he was pissed but far more composed than he had been. “You son of a-”

Dean hit him again.

“Ok, enough!” Roman snarled. “Jesus Christ, did you have to hit that hard?”

“You good, soldier?” Dean asked him and Roman nodded. “Good.” 

He looked at Seth who quickly cut him free and helped him off the table. “How do we get out of here?” 

_Through here._

All three men looked up to find the faceless woman, Abigail, standing at a gated vent. 

“Who…who is that?” Dean asked, stunned. “You guys see her too, right?”

“That's Abigail.” Seth answered and it was like Dean's while body reacted to her name. They had been friends once, good companions to each other, until she was ripped away and murdered for these asinine experiments. 

Dean walked to her slowly and knelt down in front of her. Seth hadn't realized how small she was until this very moment. But that didn't matter, there were tears in his eyes when Dean looked at her. “Abigail?” He breathed. “What happened to your face?”

_They took it with my identity when they dumped me under a stone in the Asylum graveyard. I'm just a number now, Dean. Faceless._

“What can I do to help you?” He asked her, sniffing back the tears. 

_Get out, help the others with Roman_

Dean looked back at Roman who was still rubbing his sore jaw, but nodding. 

They heard a door open and everything seemed to slam back to the here and now. “We gotta move!” 

When they looked back around, Abigail was gone. 

Seth and Roman lifted the grate and Dean slipped out first.

“You next.” Seth instructed to a very reluctant Roman. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

He felt the hand on his shoulder just as Roman slipped under the grate and he dropped the heavy steel to the floor. “Seth!”

When he turned, he was staring into the very angry face of Dr. Wyatt. “No, son. You're staying with me! KANE, they're escaping through the sewers!”

Seth heard more than saw Kane and his men running out into the asylum, probably trying to cut Dean and Roman off before they got off hospital grounds. But Seth had done it. He'd gotten Dean and Roman free. He did what he was brought here to do. 

“Abigail!” He called into the room, ignoring Wyatt's confusion. 

They syringe seemed to appear out of nowhere and Seth wasn't expecting it to plunge into his neck at the speed in which it did. He gripped at the wound and stumbled back a few steps, falling to the ground when whatever it was he was injected with started to take hold. That pain was back, sudden and immediate, and he knew he was screaming and clutching at any part of himself that he could, anything to make it stop. 

Then it did.

So did everything else.

And he was in darkness, that nothingness, that space where he was just a consciousness of floating nerve endings waiting to die. 

But he wasn't alone, not this time.

_Thank you, Seth._

Her voice echoed in his head as the nerves flashing began to slow. 

_You can go home now._


	14. Chapter 14

“Seth!? Jesus! Talk to me, babe!”

“Dean, the ambulance is on its way! I think his leg is broken.”

“What was your first clue? The fact it's pointing the wrong way or that I can see the bone?”

“Fuck you, man! I'm just trying to help. This was your stupid idea in the first place! Stay here, I'll go wait for the paramedics.”

Seth felt himself groan, but he knew he was smiling. Dean and Roman were there and they were talking to him. But, wait, shouldn't they have gotten out? No! They shouldn't have come back for him! His eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in a flash. “No!”

That's when the pain in his leg became abundantly evident and he cried out at the burst of agony that ripped from his ankle to his knee. Strong hands were at his shoulders, cooing soft words of reassurance as they gently pushed him back down. “Woah, Seth, you're okay. Just breathe.”

His eyes were able to focus at those soft words and when his vision cleared, worried blue eyes were looking down at him in the dark. “Dean?”

“Yeah, who else?” He answered with a smile that was probably meant to comfort. “Listen, Roman called an ambulance, they should be here soon. Did you hit your head or anything?”

“What?”

“You fell through some moldy ass floorboards.” He said and that's when Seth got a good look at him for the first time in the dim light. Gone were those fucking white scrubs, he was wearing that stupid leather jacket Seth had bought him for Christmas a year ago, a stupid novelty t-shirt, and an expression of absolute concern. “You fucked up your leg pretty good.”

Seth couldn't help it, he clutched at him and pulled him into a tight hug and held on for dear life. He was back! He was home! No more 1946, no more being treated horribly, no more experiments, he was home. Hell, maybe it never even really happened; Dean said he might have hit his head. But he didn't care, he was home, with Dean. He kissed him, kissed him over and over, all over his face and lips and nose, just so goddamn happy to see his stupid fucking face! 

“Seth, hey, take a breath!” Dean said and pushed him back slightly after several more kisses on the lips. “Look at me.”

Seth did. He'd never stop.

“What happened?”

Boy, was that a loaded question. “I-I was so mad at you.” He said after a beat and looked around. Yup, same derelict walls and moldy everything, dark and abandoned. “I just wanted to leave this dump.”

Did he tell dean everything else? Did he tell him about the faceless girl, 1946, the past him who had carved out a place for himself in Seth somewhere, that feeling of absolute nothingness when he was experimented on, the escape? Or did he chalk it up to a concussed dream? 

“I'm so sorry.” Dean said before Seth could go any further into detail, a genuine apology. “I should have listened to you.”

“You should have” he replied with a smirk.

Roman and the paramedics arrived a few minutes later and they got Seth to a hospital. Setting his leg was a horrible experience, and he knew the cast he'd have to wear for the next 4-6 weeks would be torture, but he didn't care. He could deal with it all, happy in this modern hospital away from that asylum. 

He'd have to stay admitted for a few days, but Dean assured him he wouldn't leave, and he didn't. He curled up next to Seth in the bed and held him close, kissing him softly and caressing his arm or face, like he couldn't get enough of touching him. This was Dean's guilt, but Seth didn't mind, especially when they were just in each other's company watching Netflix on the iPad Roman had brought them. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Rollins?” 

They both looked up, not expecting any visitors. Standing in the doorway was a man, probably in his late 80’s, smiling at him like they had known each other for years. He was tall, but hunched from age, leaning heavily on the cane at his side, a mop of shaggy white hair obscured some of his face and sparkling blue eyes. 

Dean pulled himself into a sitting position and watched with quiet interest as the old man hobbled over to the side of the bed and held out a hand to him. “You must be Dean.” 

Dean looked at the hand, confused, but did shake it once. “Do I know you?”

“Oh, probably.” The man replied with a smirk and a wink. “You can call me Jon. Jon Moxley.”

“Dean.” Seth said from the bed. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”

“Sure.” Was the clipped reply, but Dean did pull himself from the bed and left the room with one last look at the old man and promises of getting Seth a peanut butter cup from the vending machine. 

When he was gone, the old man looked at him and smiled. “Hi Seth. It's been a while. For me, anyway.”

Seth eyed him for a long few moments, just letting it sink in just who he was talking to, the sting of tears pricking at his eyes. Same smile, same promise of mischief in his eyes, same smugness. “Dean?”

“Yeah, it's me.” He said and took a seat in the guest chair with a pained groan. “You look just how I remember you. Hairs longer though.”

“It wasn't a dream?” He mumbled, more to himself than the man looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite place, just like in 1946. “I-I thought...but, how?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged. “But you were there, as real as you are now. After that night, Roman and I tried to go back for you...we didn't make it as far as the front gates. We got word that you died, but that was all the information we could gather before we had to run. We changed our names, got the word out, and the asylum closed in 1963.”

Then he nodded towards the door where dean had left. “Was I always that handsome?”

Seth breathed a laugh. 

“Listen,” The old man continued and pulled himself to his feet. “I won't keep you. I just had to see you again. You saved my life, Seth. In more ways than one.”

“What happened to Roman?” Seth asked, suddenly curious. 

He smiled sadly, “He and I lost touch about ten years ago. We were never meant to be friends, I think. But, we gave it a good try.”

His string of curious questions continued, he needed to know that this Dean had lived a good life because when he knew him, it had been nothing but pain. “Are you, you know, happy?”

“Very!” He said with that million dollar grin. “I met a man a few years after we got out. He reminds me a lot of you. His name is Tyler Black. He's the love of my life.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Dean ended up happy. Then, “How'd you know I'd be here?” 

This older version of Dean smiled. “I've been following the history of that place since we left. When the newspapers ran an article about three idiots that broke in and got hurt, I knew it had to be you.”

Just then, his Dean and Roman came into the room and stood back away from them patiently. The past Dean looked at both of them with a sort of sad fondness that struck Seth hard. He couldn't imagine seeing a younger version of yourself or the friend you lost so many years ago. Before he left, he shook Seth's hand and thanked him again. 

He almost made it to the door before turning back. “Oh, one more thing. We found Abigail and made sure she got the burial she deserved. Thought you'd like to know.”

Then he left after shaking Dean's hand one more time and clapping a very confused Roman on the shoulder. Seth watched him leave and smiled to himself. He'd saved Dean, he'd done what was asked of him, and things got a strangely happy ending. 

He supposed, if he had to be put through hell, at least those he cared about made it out the other side with long and happy lives. 

That's all he could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, all done! Not a bad ending for me I think lol! Everyone survived and were happy! Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos! 
> 
> <3


End file.
